by Douglas Hall
Without missing a beat Culpepper shot back, “I was elected sheriff of this county, and I think it is safe to say you voted for me to uphold the law and protect the innocent and that is precisely what I am doing and will continue to do until I get the answers I am seeking.”
“I…” Mayfield interrupted.
Culpepper held up his hand, “Let me finish. These two carpetbaggers, as you so disdainfully call them, are two of the finest law enforcement professionals. It has been my pleasure to have as sworn deputies. I have listened carefully to their questioning for any breach of protocol as they interrogated you and found none. Had I thought they overstepped, I would have come to your defence immediately. What I heard was textbook interrogation. Does that answer your question?”
“I have nothing further to say. May I go now?” Mayfield asked in a low voice.
“I am through with you for the time being, but it is up to my deputies to say whether you can go or not. If they are finished, you can, but if they are not, you are here until they say they are through with their questions.”
“We’re finished for now, sheriff,” West said, “however, if in the future there are more questions to be asked, we reserve the right to call Mr Mayfield back in here for another meeting.”
Knowing the answer Culpepper asked, “Why not just visit our friend in his office at the bank?” He wanted Mayfield to answer the question one more time and have it on record. That left nothing to the imagination.
“That remains to be confirmed, deputy,” Culpepper replied.
Mayfield shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“I shall have the unanswered questions on my recorder transcribed and e-mailed to you by the end of the day, Jayden. I look forward to your response in full within 48 hours. I have no more time, nor inclination, to spend with this stonewalling. Either you come back to me within 48 hours with all questions answered or I shall seek a court order and take it from there. Do I make myself clear, Jayden?”
Mayfield grunted.
“Well then, I’ll say good day and look forward to hearing from you.”
Mayfield nearly knocked over his chair in his haste to leave Culpepper’s office.
Following a brief conversation about their schedule Chester came to the door and announced, “Birmingham is on the line for you, sheriff.”
West and King made a motion to leave but Culpepper waved them back down. Answering the call, he took notes before hanging up when the one-sided conversation was completed. “The forensic team will be at the Bain farm for eight tomorrow morning. We are to orchestrate the operation, and it’s to be a complete surprise so that no evidence can be tampered with. All Sammy Pines personnel will be confined to their quarters until the sweep is completed and the resort guests have obeyed the order to vacate and leave. The grounds and facilities will be declared a crime scene with the main building and boathouse yellow taped. We are going to need backup. As soon as we are finished, I shall place a call to a couple of sheriffs in neighbouring counties and ask them to send us some deputies to assist and include two females in case we have to enter the female quarters. It’s going to be an intense day, so let’s get started.”
Picking up the phone Culpepper ordered Chester to join them. Once he had outlined what was ahead he said, “Start by setting things up with your parents, so they are not blindsided by cars rolling up the lane tomorrow morning. You know the layout of Sammy Pines far better than I do, and you will be in charge of marshalling the vehicles and the supporting deputies. Forensic will start their sweep with the cadaver dog at the boathouse, and then move to the main building. First thing on the agenda will be for every cabin to be visited and orders to leave clearly given. Keep in mind that the exit road from the property has to be kept open for the resort guests to leave. There are to be no exceptions. I want the grounds empty within half-an-hour of us arriving on site. Once you have everyone ready to move out, assemble the deputies in the barnyard and I’ll have a word with them. Any questions?”
“No, sheriff, I’ll ask you if I have.”
“Good, I know I can count on you.” Once Chester left and shut the door behind him, Culpepper reviewed his notes and said, “You two are to come with me to see the judge in case he has questions for you when I lay out what we have and request the search and arrest warrants. I don’t have to tell you that once we move in, and Moody Brook gets wind about what is going on, all hell will break loose.”
Twenty
WEST AND KING returned to their motel cabin from their meeting with Culpepper and Mayfield. West e-mailed Mandy and told her to get a good night’s sleep because tomorrow she could be in for an intense, unpredictable and hectic day.
It was time for them to review Culpepper’s plans for the next morning over a couple of beers. Before they began, West said he wanted to send Victor Madison an e-mail.
Victor
My Alabama investigation should be coming to a head. If everything goes to plan, Mandy and I should be back home in a few days with answers for your questions.
Paul
He still hadn’t told Madison that King was an integral part of his investigation. As King said, “No sense rubbing me in the old boy’s face, you can tell him after all this is laid to rest.”
By the time King snapped the beer caps, there was a reply from Madison. West was uncertain as to just how his message would resonate. He was to soon find out.
Paul
Your message sounds promising, but there is only one question I want answered: is my daughter alive or dead?
Victor
West showed the e-mail to King whose terse reply was no surprise, “Typical Victor. He always manages to keep you off guard when you could be the bearer of good news. That’s how he did it with me no matter what I had to tell him. I can’t remember one time that I got a thank you or any indication that he was pleased with what I had done or planned to do. It was obvious early on that he didn’t like me. But I had a job to do and did it to the best of my ability until I was yanked off the case.”
There was nothing West could add, so he called Mandy but received no answer. He left a voice-mail to tell her that he and King were in their cabin for the night, and to call at any time preferably sooner than later if she had any questions about what to expect next day.
AS TO BE EXPECTED, Mayfield called Proctor as soon as he arrived back home as instructed only to be told by Brockhurst that he would not be available for the rest of the day and for him to call first thing in the morning. She asked if he had a message.
Mayfield emphatically replied that what he had to say was for Proctor’s ears only, and it couldn’t wait until morning. Brockhurst pressed for details, but all he would say was, “It is an emergency, and I need to talk to him immediately. Tell him not to call me at the bank or on my home phone. He is to use my cell phone. He has the number.” From the tone of Mayfield’s voice, Brockhurst realised it was something serious and she would do her best to reach Proctor. She made no promises and said it would probably be after dinner before he heard from him.
The added pressure did not sit well with Mayfield. In a fit of frustration, as he waited for Proctor’s call and did what he knew he should have done instead of trying to reach Proctor first…He called head office and gave his superior a water-downed reason for his call. He was ordered to stay off the phone and wait for a return call when the resident legal counsel could hear what he had to say.
Waiting was sheer agony. He tried to imagine what the rest of the day held for him as his mind raced from one scenario to the next. The conference call came and it was not pleasant once he said West and King had attended the meeting at Culpepper’s insistence. He was immediately criticised for staying in their presence and was told he had seriously contravened a direct order. From that moment on, he was peppered with demands to know precisely what was asked and what his replies were. He could have played the recorded session but opted for a verbal recounting. Following what had to be the most lacerating head office reprimand he
had ever endured he was instructed to wait while the ramifications of what he told them were discussed. After, what seemed like an eternity, Mayfield was ordered to clear out his desk, talk to no one and leave the bank immediately, return home and wait for a call.
Just as he was about to leave the office, the desk phone rang. It was Brockhurst, “Pastor Paul is tied-up and unable to speak to you until tomorrow morning. You are to tell me what the emergency is, and I’ll relay your message to him.”
Mayfield was too worked up not to say, “Just tell him that Culpepper and his two deputies have been snooping around. They think there are irregularities with Sammy Pines financials. Don’t ask me how they got into to them, but you can be sure I’ll be asking questions in the morning.”
It was a weak reply and it didn’t put Brockhurst off stride, “What do you think they know?”
“No way of telling, but it concerns the monthly statements and the way the deposits and withdrawals, including monies received from the Lichtenstein bank, are reported. I was also grilled by the bank’s officials and they demanded answers. I did my best to fend them off, but it was brutal. I was careful what I told them, but I don’t think they bought it, and they will be back for more. I have been relieved as branch manager and ordered to go home and stay put until they call me.” With a defeated voice Mayfield said, “My banking career is over.”
“What can the bank do to us?”
“It’s not the bank! It’s Interpol and those two damn Canadians,” Mayfield replied. He couldn’t mask the panic in his voice.
TWO HOURS LATER, Brockhurst was in the boathouse and still fuming as she waited for Proctor to return from an afternoon on the lake. It was something he did to get away from phones and people whom he had to pretend he had an interest in. With relief, she heard the door open below and the boat slowing entering into its mooring. It took Proctor a few minutes to secure the boat and climb the stairs before opening the door on the ground level. There was no attempt to hide his surprise when he saw Brockhurst sitting on the chesterfield with a glass of wine.
“Just what do you think you are doing and who gave you permission to get into my private stock?” Proctor asked in demanding voice.
Brockhurst regally pointed to the bottle of vintage chardonnay on the table, “It was chilling in the refrigerator. You’ll need it when I tell you what has happened.”
Muttering under his breath Proctor filled a glass and carried it with the bottle to a small table by the matching chair and sat down. “This had better be good,” he snapped as he took a long slow drink that emptied half of the glass.
Brockhurst held out her glass to be topped off, “Good! It’s our worst nightmare.” She proceeded to relate the substance of Mayfield’s conversation, slowly and articulately. Proctor listened without interruption as he drained his glass and reached for the bottle.
“What do we do now?” Brockhurst asked.
“We head back to your office. You call Gaylord Brunson and Jayden Mayfield and tell them they are to be in my study at nine tomorrow morning and don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“I don’t think Jayden will run the risk of coming. He has been fired, and it’s my guess he won’t want it known that he saw us the day after the can was tied to him. It could negatively impact any settlement the bank might offer. Don’t worry he’ll attend. He wouldn’t dare say ‘no’ to me.”
“Good,” replied Proctor as he drained his glass, “let’s get moving. There is a lot of work to be done. We’ll beat them to the punch and back up all our personal files on USB drives, then delete them from every laptop and desktop computer in the place, including ours.”
Twenty-One
DEPUTY CHESTER BAIN was a marvel to watch as he orchestrated the cars and deputies who arrived promptly at eight on the grassed open space between the outbuildings and the Bain farmhouse. Culpepper was standing with West and King and watching with a critical eye. The last to arrive was a white truck with Mobile Crime Lab in black on the sides and ‘Police’ on the cab doors. It was accompanied by a marked car that pulled up beside it. The rear door opened and two cadaver dogs jumped out to shake energetically along with a wag of their tails. The two handlers kept a firm hold of the leads and took them for a short walk.
Bain had a quick word with the members of the forensic team before leading them to the group of deputies and made introductions. Leaving them he walked quickly to where Culpepper was standing, “Everyone is assembled and waiting for you, sheriff.”
“Thank you, Chester, and a job well done.” Turning to West and King he said, “You come with me. I want to introduce both of you with a brief explanation of who you are and why you are attending before I give them their orders.” Culpepper was resplendent in his crisp uniform with two rows of service ribbons and a Purple Heart earned during Operation Desert Storm in Iraq. He didn’t waste words and related the events which led up to the search operation. West and King were introduced with a brief explanation as to why they were appointed deputies. King stepped up to outline the missing person’s investigation which brought him and West from Canada to Moody Brook. He ended with their strong suspicion that somewhere on the grounds of Sammy Pines, there was the body of Cindy Madison, and, hopefully, they would find it.
“Deputy Bain is in charge of the operation. You will take your orders from him,” stated Culpepper. "This is a search operation and something you have all been on many times, so I am expecting a smooth and successful operation.
"Deputies West and King will be joining me to keep a lady and her pastor entertained while you carry out your duties. I shall be in contact with Deputy Bain at all times. Now let us synchronise our watches and be ready to move out at-twee 9:30 promptly. Breakfast at Sammy Pines will be over and the clean-up finished by then, so you can begin your search immediately upon arriving.
"First on your agenda will be to visit every guest cabin. You are to order the guests to pack their belongings and escort them to their cars and instruct them to immediately leave the property. Some will raise holy hell. I know I would. If any refuse, threaten them with arrest, that should be sufficient to generate cooperation. I want all guests off the property by 10:30, no later. They will pepper you with questions but say nothing other than it is police business. The dining room and housekeeping staff are to be escorted to their quarters by the two female deputies immediately after we arrive. A deputy is to be posted at the entrance and no one is to be allowed in or out. The lady manning the reception desk is one of ours and is not to be interfered with.
“Once the property is cleared, begin your search. I do not have the vaguest idea what you will be looking for. I was able to convince the judge with just cause and he issued a search warrant, so you can legally carry out your duties. Deputies West and King accompanied me and presented just cause that based upon their long-standing investigation going all the way back to Canada; they strongly suspect a murder has been carried out within the bounds of the Sammy Pines property and it was enough for his honour. Now, it’s up to you to find what I will need to make arrests and justify his honour’s faith in us. That’s all.” Turning to West and King he asked if he missed anything. They shook their heads. “Stand down and have a smoke before Deputy Bain orders you to move out.”
Bain waited until Culpepper’s marked car, with West and King, left the farm and called out, “Be ready to move out.” The handlers held the back door open to their marked car and the two cadaver dogs jumped onto the rear seat. The Mobile Crime Lab pulled up behind Bain and the others followed. Including the lab van, there were ten marked cars in the procession. On the stroke of 9:30, Bain started his engine and led the way from the barnyard up the lane to the roadway.
The Bains and Thelma Jean Turner were watching from the summer kitchen window.
Judging his timing like a military manoeuvre Bain arrived at the administration building for ten and parked beside Culpepper’s car. The lab vehicle pulled to the side, and the other cars parked in the empty spaces. The deput
ies moved quickly to begin their first assignment which was cleaning out the cabins and escorting the guests to the parking area and their cars.
Mandy was standing at the open door to reception and was joined by Bain who asked how Culpepper was faring. When she told him the three had headed to Proctor’s study, he directed CULPEPPER ARRIVED at the closed door with PASTOR PAUL PROCTOR in bold letters on a large brass plate. PRIVATE in block letters on a smaller plate underneath, did not deter him. With West and King bringing up the rear, they entered the study without knocking to the shocked surprise of everyone.
Jayden Mayfield was sitting to the left of Proctor’s desk, Gaylord Brunson was seated to the right. Brockhurst was in front of the desk with her laptop activated. Proctor couldn’t believe his eyes. He sat rigid with both hands, palms down, on the top of his writing pad.
“What is this outrage all about?” Brunson bellowed.
Culpepper was ready. Waving an official looking document, he said, “This, counsellor, is a search warrant. It gives me and my deputies the authority to search Sammy Pines’ property and all buildings. I also have a warrant allowing me to clear the property of guests and shut Sammy Pines down as it is now a crime scene. As I speak, the yellow tape is being strung around.”
“You can’t shut Sammy Pines down. There are paying guests!” exploded Proctor.
“Oh yes I can, and I have.” With a wave of his hand Culpepper said to King, “Deputy, open the venetian blind so Pastor Paul can see for himself.”
Every vestige of colour faded from Proctor’s face as he saw guests with suitcases, and children being accompanied by deputies as they made their way to the to the parking area. Also, in plain sight were Arnold Gould and his son walking between two officers.
Proctor didn’t miss the Crime Lab vehicle that was parked by the boathouse with forensic officers milling around in their white Tyvek suits and shoe coverings of papery-plastic protective material that stopped them from contaminating the scene.