by W L Ripley
“Yeah,” Leo said, hands on his hips. “Let’s play your ball. Two-stroke penalty. I’m proud to be part of this team. We lose this and I’m gonna wrap a lob-wedge around your neck.”
“That’s quite a statement for a pacifist.”
They stepped out of the wooded area and Jake dropped a ball for the two-stroke penalty. Leo had the best ball but was still short of the green. They were going to lose two, maybe three strokes on this hole.
As they drove their cart up to hit their approach shot, Jake asked, “Why use the lob wedge.”
“I can’t hit my lob for nothing.”
Chapter Twenty
Buddy Johnson took the call on his cell phone. It was Jake.
“What’s up?”
Jake said, “Do me a favor and research all of Mitchell’s holdings.”
Buddy looked at the paperwork on his desk. It had piled up in the last few days as he acclimated himself to his new duties with Paradise P.D. His ashtray was full with cigarette butts. Wishing he had not resumed that nasty habit. His kid was in a kindergarten concert later and he promised he would go.
“What else I have to do?” Buddy said. “You know I look forward to running your errands. How do you – ” Buddy began, then said, “Where are you?”
“On the 15th tee down eight holes to six.”
“You’re increasing my workload.”
“I’ll buy you a beer at Hank’s.”
“No,” Buddy said. “A steak dinner and no delay in paying up.”
“Done,” Jake said and broke the connection.
Pam Kellogg Mitchell’s office was on the second floor of the Green Summit Bank Building where she conducted most of the Mitchell family business along with running the bank. Pam was wearing a black business suit with a matching skirt and a blood red blouse.
There were plaques and awards, along with her MBA Diploma on the wall. Pictures of Pam with local businesspeople, celebrities and state politicians on the wall. Large aerial photo of downtown Paradise behind her.
Her secretary buzzed her and said her husband, Alex, was on the line. Alex chasing Shari Langston was the last straw. Pam told the secretary to say she was busy and would call him back later. She wasn’t going to call him but it was okay to give him a little hope.
Five minutes later her secretary entered her office and said a lady was here to see her. Harper Bannister.
Well, that’s interesting. The day was picking up.
“Show her in,” Pam said, waving a hand and returning to her work.
Harper entered and sat without being asked. Harper wore a white silk blouse under a collarless blue blazer over a pair of tan pleated slacks. She crossed her legs and leaned forward; her hands folded comfortably on her knee.
“It’s good to see you, Harper,” Pam said. “What can we do for you, today? Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Or a poison apple, thought Harper, smiling to herself. “So, we’re going for polite today? Okay. First, no thank you regarding the coffee. As graciously as one can pose an indelicate question, what is going on with you and Jake?”
Pam pulled her head back in mock surprise, saying, “I’m a married woman.”
“As difficult as it might be to expect, I would appreciate a straight answer. If there is something going on, that’s fine. I just want to know for myself.”
Pam leaned forward her forearms on her desk. “What makes you feel you are in a position to ask anything of me?”
“I’m amazed you think everyone is overwhelmed by you,” said Harper. “See, I don’t have a penis, therefore I remain immune.”
“Well, meow,” Pam said. “You come here to insult me or to gain information about some mystical relationship with Jake Morgan?”
“That,” said Harper, “and what you had going with Gage Burnell.”
“This is your idea of polite?” Pam said. “Not surprised. Not only are you indelicate, you likewise have no practice with etiquette. I am put off by you and your tasteless insinuations.”
“No answers then? Wanted to hear your side of things. But then you always project your suspicious nature on others. Jake told me about your appearance at his place. Thought it would be entertaining to hear an abridged version of what is going on in your love life.”
“There was nothing between me and Gage. Now, if there is nothing else I can enlighten you with, I have things to do.”
“Always wonder how you have time to get any work done where you have your clothes on.”
“Why don’t you take a five-minute break from being a bitch and access the non-crazy of your brain and let’s talk straight.”
“You have no practice with honesty,” said Harper. “You take the scenic route when you want something. Probably how you got rich.” Harper looked around the office for a moment before saying, “But, to be fair, just because you marry rich boys doesn’t mean you’re a whore.”
Pam removed the half-glasses from her face and said, “That’s just a little beyond – ”
“I meant,” Harper shrugged with her palms upturned, “you were a whore way before you married Alex.”
Pam chewed at the corner of her lower lip and exhaled.
“Always a treat talking to you but you’ve over-stayed,” Pam said. “I’m sure you hoped to unsettle me yet, as so often happens, you’re still a boring little shit. So, leave now. Before I call the sheriff.”
“Sheriff Daddy? He’s out on the golf course. Jake sent me a text from the Country Club. But I’m going. I would think histrionics were beneath you. You’re slipping.”
Harper got up to leave, pleased with her performance. As she neared the door, she turned and said, “I note that you didn’t deny you’re in heat for Jake. So, it’s on, girlfriend.”
“I’m not your girlfriend.”
“And now I learn you’re unable to discern sarcasm.”
“That’s a birdie for us,” Vernon said, carding the 14th hole. “Double bogey for you? That gives us eight holes to six for you and you’re down four strokes with only four holes left.
Jake took out his driver and limbered up. He took a practice cut. “Love a challenge.” He accepted a beer from Leo and offered one to Vernon. Vernon and Doc had been pouring Scotch over ice into red Solo cups, Doc sipping his between puffs on a cigarette.
“No, thanks,” Vernon said, expansive now. In a good mood from the alcohol and the score. His face was flushed, and his mouth was slack. Maybe this was the right moment.
Jake said, “How about ten bucks a hole and five bucks a stroke for the final four holes and we keep the first fourteen as a done deal?”
Leo looked at him, his eyes wide. Jake winked back at him and lit up a cigar.
“Your funeral,” Vernon said, addressing his tee shot.
“Regarding funerals,” Jake said. “I missed Gage’s. Were you there? A shame him drowning in a creek. Odd way to die isn’t it, Doc? I thought it was injuries from a car wreck. Did you follow up on the crime scene?”
Doc Kellogg looked straight ahead. “Wasn’t a crime scene.” Doc teed off and hooked a shot into the rough.
“Aw,” Leo said. “Bad luck.”
“Any accident is a crime scene, Doc. You know that.”
“You learn that at Ranger academy? Come home to teach us hicks about law enforcement?” Kellogg walked back to the cart and rammed his driver back into the bag.
“Just making conversation.” Jake took a drag on his cigar, exhaled a blue-grey cloud and teed up his golf ball. Placing his cigar on the ground Jake hit a nice shot five feet to the left of the green. Leo topped that with a beauty that rolled up onto the green of the par four hole.
“Wow,” Jake said. “Maybe an eagle, huh? Nice start wouldn’t you say, Doc?”
Kellogg didn’t look at him or say anything, instead slamming back his red cup then filling his cup again. Vernon drove the cart forward with a lurch causing Doc to spill some of the liquor.
“May have struck a nerve,” Leo said, to Jake.
“All part of my secret evil plan,” Jake said.
“Better work, I can’t afford the loss. You do realize I’m a poor public-school teacher. Why’d you press the bet?”
“I’ll cover. This is my game. They’re drunk and getting pissed off.”
“And you want them mad?” Leo said, shaking his head.
“Yep.”
“Twain says anger is an acid. When will you be going back to Texas?” Leo said. “I don’t know how much more fun and friendship I can sustain. You always did like it out on the ledge. You and Gage.”
Leo and Jake picked up two strokes when Doc and Mitchell bogeyed the 15th hole, while Jake dropped a nice 17-foot putt for a birdie.
Down two, three holes left.
Between holes, Jake began sharing old war stories with Leo about the good times they had with Buddy and Gage. Jake making sure Doc Kellogg heard it, especially the part about how Gage always had to be the designated driver.
“Never nailed us for DUI, did you, Doc?” Jake said. “We always made sure to have Gage along as designated driver. Sure could handle his beer.”
“We going to play golf or hold a class reunion?” said Doc.
“I just find it strange...” Letting it hang.
Doc turned away, took a practice swing with his driver, and said, “What was strange?”
Vernon looked at Doc with a sour expression.
“You know,” Jake said, sticking the needle in now. “I heard how Gage was drunk the night he had his accident. This was funny to me because Gage never drank much. You ever see him get drunk, Leo?”
Total fiction as Jake had seen Gage drunk, maybe not black-out drunk but Gage liked to light up the night and had done so more than once. So had Leo.
“Not one time,” Leo said, picking up on Jake’s line.
Jake pulled on his golf glove, wriggling his fingers into it and said, “So, there you have it, Doc. A guy not given to being drunk drives off a bridge, gets out of his car, stumbles into a creek and drowns. That didn’t strike you as something to follow up on? I mean, I would’ve.”
“He’d just lost his job,” Vernon said, getting his own dig in. “I heard he was having problems with his fiancée. Maybe someone else was plowing his field.”
Beautiful. Vernon wanting to come back at Jake, booze loosening his tongue. Gage having problems with Hanna? Maybe what Hanna was holding back? Something to check with Hanna.
“Fired, not lost his job,” Jake said. “You know, Doc, you’re probably right,” Jake said. “You being a long-time lawman. Sorry I brought it up.”
Kellogg spit on the ground, lined up his tee shot and duck-hooked into the trees on the left. Vernon followed with a worm-burner that bounced along the ground and rolled into the fringe on the right side of the fairway. Inebriated and pissed off. Not conducive to good golf. Leo and Jake both hit beauties and won the hole.
The 18th hole was a par three. A small island on the lake with a man-built path to reach it. There were only two ways to play the hole. When you teed-off you either landed on the green or you splashed. It was the toughest hole on the course. Built to ensure you wanted a stiff drink when you got back to the clubhouse.
Total strokes were now tied but Jake and Leo had a lead in total holes, 9-8.
Jake stepped up and said, “In the water or dancing on the lawn.” He waggled his pitching wedge and swung. The ball rose high in the air. They watched as it soared over the water, hit the green, back-spin as it dug in and rolled five feet to the right of the pin.
“I choose to dance,” Jake said.
“Shit,” Vernon said, softly.
“Knew you’d be good for something if I waited long enough,” Leo said. He put his wedge back in his bag and said, “It’s Miller time. Not going to waste my energy. Believe you boys are properly bow-dicked at present. You’d think I’d be tired of winning, but...not.”
Both Kellogg’s and Vernon’s tee shots were wet. Doc took his 9-iron and threw it in the lake.
“C’mon, Doc,” chided Jake, feeling good about things. “Just a game.”
Kellogg turned and pointed at Jake. “Don’t push me, Morgan. I’ve had about enough of your mouth and your insinuations.”
“Relax,” Jake said, feeling in control for the first time since he’d come back to town. “Beautiful day, good company. Besides, you have enough stress with an election coming up. Be tough to beat Buddy though. I really like Buddy’s chances. He’s popular and honest. Tough combination to beat.”
Vernon Mitchell reached into his golf bag and producing his wallet he fished out a hundred dollar bill. “Here,” he said, “this should cover it.”
“Would you like some change?”
“The only change I want is your location,” Vernon said.
“C’mon be a gracious loser,” Jake said. “We’ll give you a return match. Give you a couple Mulligans.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Mitchell said. “You won’t learn, will you? So, I’ll make it clear. You need to give serious consideration to haul you Texas ass back south and do whatever you did there. There’s nothing for you here.” He drew himself up before saying, “Less than nothing you keep prodding me.”
Smiling now, Jake said, “Don’t forget my membership. A deal’s a deal. May move back here and take advantage of it.”
Vernon pointed at Jake, his face reddening. He shook his head and got back in his cart with Doc and they headed for the clubhouse at a quick pace.
“They seem disconcerted,” Leo said, handing an icy beer to Jake. “Damn, Jake, those guys draw a lot of water around here and you went right at them. Good to know you still have a knack for spreading sunshine wherever you go. How do you manage that?”
“Naturally affable, I guess,” Jake said.
Leo said, “Affable may not work this time.”
Jake scratched behind an ear and said, “Either way, it’s on now.”
“The gauntlet thrown,” Leo said shaking his head. “I guess you know what you’re doing?”
“I don’t know what I could’ve done to make you think that. I’m just poking at them, see what happens.”
“Bear in mind, old buddy,” said Leo. “You beard the lion in his den you could end up missing a hand.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Jake got a call from his Captain Parmalee, back in Texas. Parmalee telling him he was not pleased to get phone calls from law enforcement agencies in other states informing him one of his people was insinuating themselves into a closed investigation.
“Not only that,” said Parmalee. “How in the hell did you get involved in a bank shooting? You ever do anything that isn’t chaotic?”
Jake could understand Parmalee’s ire. So, Kellogg and Vernon had gone over his head. Very telling.
“Two armed men in the bank,” Jake said. “I gave them a chance to surrender. One chose otherwise.”
Concerning Gage’s death Jake telling his Captain there was evidence something was wrong and why bother to call Parmalee if there was nothing to it? The captain telling Jake to stay out of it.
“Don’t know if I can do that,” Jake said.
Quiet on the other end. “Jake. Listen to me. We cannot provide cover for you. You do understand what a leave of absence in your situation is? This is an excessive force complaint. You put the man in the hospital. If you get on the wrong side of this thing in your hometown then it’s possible Austin will terminate your service. I wouldn’t like that. You’re a fine ranger with a promising career, never see anyone shoots as well as you, but consider my position and the position of the department. We do not interfere in other jurisdictions without being invited.”
“So, if invited I can go forward with the investigation.”
Jake could imagine the captain sighing. “Take my advice for what it’s worth. Stay out of local troubles.”
Parmalee broke the connection.
At least Jake knew what the stakes were. No job, no future, surrounded by enemies, and stuck in the place he had long
wished to vacate.
He checked back with Buddy Johnson regarding Mitchell holdings in the county. Buddy told him he would email the list.
“Thanks.”
“I hope you’re not getting in deeper than you can dig out,” Buddy said. “Heard about your golf game. Would’ve loved to see Doc’s face when you mentioned the election.”
“It was a tender moment.”
It was dove season, so Wednesday morning Jake called an old friend and gained permission to hunt a silage-cut cornfield. A day outdoors would get his mind off his captain’s warning and allow him to sort through the convoluted chain of events that led to the homicide of his friend. Calling it homicide now.
Jake loaded up a small cooler with soda and a couple of sandwiches and by midafternoon he was sitting in a row of uncut cornstalks and waiting for the grey birds to fly in for a late afternoon snack. It was a cool autumn day with the temperature hovering in the 50s, the sun warm.
He reached into the cooler and pulled out a red Coca-Cola can, dripping with moisture. A dove swung low over the field like a missile and out of range before Jake raised his shotgun. He knew there would be another.
He settled the crimson can back in the cooler and got ready. A pair of doves flew his way, and as they passed, Jake opened up with the shotgun.
Stepping out of cover, Jake walked through the raw stubble of the harvested part of the field. He placed the butt of the shotgun on the rough ground for support, leaning down to pick up a bird when a sudden jerk on his shotgun wrenched it from his hand. The shotgun collapsed then the delayed report of a high-powered rifle Jake. Jake tumbled to the raw stubble.
He rolled and scrambled to his feet zig-zagging across the field. Try to reach the windbreak hedgerow and get cover. Move. Another shot slashed the ground at his feet before he reached the hedgerow and was able to dive behind the tree line. He placed a hand against the trunk of a tree and looked back across the field, then quickly put his head back. A round ripped into the tree and then the crack of the weapon.