by W L Ripley
“I know you’ll have my back.”
Jake could hear Parmalee exhale into the phone. “Have your back? Jake, there are political realities and procedures regarding how we conduct ourselves as law enforcement officers. Why doesn’t that connect for you? Sometimes I wonder why I endure your nonsense.”
“Maybe because I’m a lot like you were before you got a desk with a nameplate.”
“Not in a million years.”
“I’ve heard the stories,” Jake said.
“Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“Don’t worry, boss,” Jake said. “I don’t.”
“Well,” said the captain. “I’ll do what I can at this end but don’t presume upon it. And, don’t call me boss.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You may not have reason to thank me. One more thing.”
Jake waited.
Parmalee said, “Looks like you’re going to be all right on the other thing. The wife changed her story and said her husband deserved it and if you hadn’t intervened, he might’ve killed her. The guy’s out of the public arena for nine months and you’re off the hook.”
“Okay.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re free to beat the shit out of every perp you encounter in the future. Or, shoot them. Remember that. We’ll see you back here in a few days.”
New lease on life. Don’t screw it up, Jake.
Telling himself that but sometimes...
After the phone call, Jake decided to take a look at the west fence line. It was a pretty good walk to the area, but he wanted to clear his head. He looked at the sagging fence and knew it would be a project to fix but it would have to be done.
A lot of things would need to be done. He had to head back to Texas soon. How to keep the farm up? He could hire someone or rent out the place. Or?
Sell it.
As we began to walk back to the house, he heard a vehicle coming up his lane. Before he could get back, he could hear the sound of the vehicle leaving. Probably saw he wasn’t home and left.
He hoofed it back to the house, got a beer out of the fridge and the landline rang and the phone ID read “unknown”. He hesitated to pick it up thinking it was a solicitor wanting him to purchase some double-paned windows or siding.
He answered it.
A voice, muffled and unrecognizable, said, “Get out of town. Today.”
“Who is this?”
He heard the click of the phone as the party hung up.
Crank call?
Jake punched in Buddy’s number told Buddy about the cryptic call.
“You beginning to think someone doesn’t like you?” asked Buddy.
“With my fetching personality? How could that be so?”
Jake absently patted his pocket for a cigarette, remembering he wasn’t smoking. Still a bit unsettled by the shooting incident.
“Don’t doubt Vernon Mitchell’s very long reach in this area.”
“I don’t. That’s not it.”
“What?”
Jake said, “Vernon strike you as someone who doesn’t plan well?”
Buddy shaking his head, then looking at Jake. “No. No, he doesn’t. He strikes me as ruthless and tough. Not a killer though. What’re you saying?”
“So far, things seem fragmented. Some things are well-planned and open like Sheriff Kellogg or someone calling my captain and hiring bar thugs to confront me. Others, like stealing my pick-up are more the act of people making it up as they go along. This would be more like Tommy who still thinks Harper belongs to him.”
“I noted she spent the night with you.”
“Be careful, Buddy. Nothing happened. She just fell asleep on my sofa.”
“Uh huh. So, that’s your story? Don’t screw things up with her. She’s the real deal.”
Jake imagined Buddy smiling at Jake’s chagrin regarding Harper. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed it or not but there’s a lot of untoward sex stuff going on in this town when the sun goes down.”
“You mean like my sister-in-law Shari Langston and Alex Mitchell?” Surprising Jake. “Makes my wife sick. She gets enough from the peckerwood ass wipes around here about being married to a black man.”
“You’re black?” Jake said. “Wow. I just thought you had a really good tan.”
Jake watched the Paradise Country Sheriff’s SUV coming up his lane. Inside was Sheriff ‘Doc’ Kellogg. Jake walked outside and continued to talk to Buddy.
“Gotta run,” Jake said. “Looks like the sheriff is here.”
“Easy, Jake,” Buddy said. “Lay back and be cool. Part of his job to follow up on the shooting, even a self-defense shooting so this is just routine. You got your way at his office and you’ve already pushed him enough. He’s got the hammer here. Keep calm and don’t light him up.”
Jake nodded to himself. “Yeah, believe you’re right.”
“Stay out of trouble,” Buddy said. “Good to be home isn’t it?”
Sheriff Kellogg got out of his unit, putting on his Stetson and adjusting his gun belt. He had a deputy with him.
“Sorry about this,” said Kellogg. “You’re not going to like this but I’m going to have to rope it off as a crime scene.”
“Not the house, just their car.”
Sheriff Kellogg thought about that.
“If you have to close down the house, then do what you have to do,” Jake said. “Whatever’s best but I hope you won’t be offended if I talk to an attorney about that.”
“Well,” said Kellogg. “We’ll see. Not doing that at the moment.”
Kellogg and his deputy went about their duties, checking the scene, taking photos of the Buick. Jake showered and changed clothes. Kellogg and his deputy were gone by the time Jake fired up the Lincoln to go see Harper. As he got to the end of his lane, he met Pam Kellogg Mitchell. Her window whooshed down, and she said, “I came as soon as I could.”
The statement was perplexing. ‘As soon as she could’?
“What do you mean?”
“I heard about the shooting. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I did the shooting.”
“We need to talk,” she said. “I think it was Tommy.”
“Tommy?”
“He stole your vehicle I think.”
“I need more than that. You have anything concrete?”
“He hates you because of Harper.”
“Well, I appreciate the information. Why’re you telling me this?”
Her face softened and her lips parted before saying, “I tried to stay away, tried not to be drawn to you, but I can’t. I still love you, Jake.”
Jake looked in the rearview mirror back at the car covered with yellow police tape. Leo the Lion was right. Pam Kellogg would always be Pam Kellogg and whether it was men, money or power, Pam Kellogg knew how to get what she wanted.
So, what to say?
He said, “I believe you.”
She looked at Jake. All the soft light gone and in its place was a look in her eyes he had not seen before.
It wasn’t love.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jake considered possible suspects for Gage’s killing.
The Mitchells were a possibility. All of them. They had many businesses and perhaps that was the key. The businesses that interested Jake the most were their chemical fertilizer plant and their grain elevator. Jake noted something caked on Steve Barb’s boots Sunday at Vernon’s home. Did it look like what he had found on the brake pedal of Gage’s vehicle?
The chemical fertilizer plant was located outside city limits. However, Mitchell’s grain elevator was located in town. Right where a dedicated auxiliary cop could see it.
It wasn’t a slam dunk because every farmer on every farm in the county had sacks of fertilizer and feed that may match what he had found in Gage’s auto. Almost a dead end unless he could definitively match the residue in Gage’s Dodge Charger to materials found around the elevator or the fertilizer plant. So, it was c
ircumstantial evidence at best, but investigations were put together a piece at a time. Sometimes the most innocuous things became important, even conclusive.
He was sharing this information with Harper. They were sitting on Harper’s back deck to watch the sun fade into a warm golden orange.
“Pam could be right about Tommy,” Jake said.
“Steve Barb works at the fertilizer plant and the grain elevator,” said Harper. Her cat leaped up on Harper’s lap, while Bandit had curled up at Jake’s feet. “And so does Robby Warner. So does Tommy. They move around. I struggle thinking of Tommy as a killer. I mean, he’s an irresponsible jerk, but a killer? I don’t see that.”
“Why’d you marry him anyway?”
“I’m attracted to creeps.” Big smile and letting it hang.
“Touché,” Jake said. “You know, doesn’t take a lot to create a murderer. Circumstances can turn anyone’s thoughts to homicide.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Most of the people I’ve arrested were ruled by impulses that—” shaking his head now, “—were inexplicable. I once handcuffed a woman who’d stabbed her boyfriend with a letter opener. Said she did it because he kept changing channels on the TV, and it was driving her crazy.”
“What about Pam?” said Harper, arching an eyebrow. “You thought about that?”
A sick thought was Pam had a key to his house. The only explanation for how she showed up the night she visited him. Pam had a connection with Gage. Pam’s thought processes had ever been inexplicable, partly because she was a woman and largely because Pam Kellogg was an extraordinarily talented person who was smarter than all the Mitchells put together.
And, perhaps smarter than Jake.
“I’m not excluding anyone at this point.”
“A murder mystery,” said Harper. “One involving cover-ups, intrigues, violence, sexual indiscretions and a tall boy back from Texas.”
“People who’ve killed once have nothing to lose by eliminating witnesses.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Something happens to you I have to go back to the semi-cowboys wearing polo cologne.”
“You don’t like the semi-cowboys?”
“Don’t like Polo cologne. Smells like junior high boys.”
Jake left Harper, telling her he had a couple of things to do and would be back later. On the road he looked at the gas gauge. It was low. He remembered there was a couple of credit card gas pumps in front of the Mitchell grain elevator. Two birds with one stone?
He pulled into the parking lot and eased next to one of the gas pumps. Jake zipped his debit card, opened the gas cap, pulled the hose from the pump and shoved it into the gas tank. He looked up at the grain elevator looming and towering over the low city skyline.
Jake saw the two men walking his way. What a coincidence. Steve Barb and his partner, Robby Warner. Jake turned away, much like you do a dog, ignoring it and letting it know its growling didn’t mean much.
“Hey, asshole,” said Barb.
‘Asshole’? Unbelievable. Pump the gas and do what you came to do. Check out the elevator then see Cal. Afterwards go back to see if Harper wanted to make it an evening. Maybe a nice dinner. Better than dealing with a couple of mental defectives who may or may not be killers.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Barb said, flicking a cigarette away.
“I was ignoring you. You miss that part?”
“Want to talk to you.”
“That works because I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
“Yeah, what about?”
“Where were you the night Gage Burnell was killed?”
“What’s it to you?” said Barb.
Jake smiled, shaking his head. “They told me you were a gifted conversationalist, but I had no idea you were so articulate.”
Jake watched Robby, circling away from Steve, moving to the outside of Jake’s peripheral vision. Here we go.
“You got mouth problems you know that?”
Jake keeping his eye on Steve. Guy was bulled up. What was this? Were they considering an assault? Right here in town? Did Vernon have so much power they weren’t concerned about an arrest? Robby didn’t look like he wanted trouble but both of them big enough to bring trouble. There was no one else around.
“Look,” Jake said. “Let me fill up and we’ll talk. How’s that?”
“Fuck you,” said Barb.
“Well, never mind. Just back away and I’ll see you some other time. Maybe in an official capacity.”
“Heard you took two guys in town a few days ago,” said Barb. Starting to escalate. Jake hadn’t figured on a confrontation and wasn’t ready for it. Scrape of boot leather against raw pavement behind him. Robby moving further out of his vision. This could turn ugly and he was trapped between the Lincoln and the gas pumps in a town that no longer knew him. A town without pity for a Texas visitor.
“Well,” said Barb. “We want you to understand we’re not those two guys.”
Barb was a talker. Wanted to tell how it went down later. Never knew a talker that did anything unless they came at you sideways or had the deck stacked in their favor. Robby was a follower. Barb was wrapping a strip of hard rubber around his hand. Not good. This was going to happen. Jake turned to look for Robby while putting the gas nozzle back in its holster.
“You morons are looking at an assault charge you come at me. You want trouble I’ll accommodate you, but not here.”
Robby had moved to within two steps of Jake. Jake spun and said, “You keep coming, Robby, I’ll knock the taste out of your mouth.”
Barb moved in and hit Jake behind the ear, the hard rubber wrapping making it more painful. Jake’s head filled with starbursts. Crunch of teeth grinding.
Jake recovered and caught Barb on the shoulder with an elbow, then kicked out at Robby but instead of taking out Robby’s kneecap, Jake’s boot merely scraped the side of the man’s leg and now the two men had him down between the car and the gas pumps with no room to maneuver.
Jake tried to cover as they worked on him, punching and kicking out to try to get them off. He felt their fists and the hard ground underneath him. Someone yelled. They had him down and there was no way out. These were big men. Hard men. He was going to take a beating, so he folded himself up to lessen the impact. Ride it out, Jake.
Tire skidding on gravel, a door opening and then...
“Get off him,” said a familiar voice, then a beastly sound. A guttural bellow he had heard many times years ago by an all-district linebacker busting through blockers.
Leo the Lion had snatched Steve Barb and now had Barb dangling over Leo’s head like an Olympic powerlifter, Barb’s belt and shirt gripped in Leo’s fists. Barb squirmed but the alternative was a hard fall onto unforgiving pavement. As Robby backed away, Jake got to his feet and stalked Robby.
“No more,” said Robby, his hands out in front of him, imploring Jake. “We’re done, okay?”
“I’m not,” Jake said. He was breathing hard as he punched Robby at the base of his throat. Robby threw his hands to his neck and coughed for air. Jake started towards Robby but stopped when he heard Leo yelled out at him.
“Jake. Stop,” Leo said, his voice under the strain of his power-lift of Barb.
Jake turned toward Leo and shocked by what he saw; Steve Barb suspended over Leo’s head.
“Damn, Leo,” Jake said, amazed. “Put him down.”
Leo surged with adrenaline, his chest heaving with effort. His eyes darted right, then left, as if confused, then embarrassed. People were gathering. He sat Barb down and Barb stumbled to regain balance, his face drained of blood, and registering disbelief. He had been physically lifted, like a sack of feed.
Robby, who had been coughing and spitting, said, “Shit,” the words coming softly from his mouth.
“You two guys need to give some thought about your life choices,” Leo said. “This is bullshit and you can do better, Robby. Fi
nd someone else to hang out with.”
“Sorry, Coach,” said Robby. Barb had his head down. Dawning on Jake that this pair had played football for Leo and listened to him.
Leo pointing at Barb now and saying, “As for you, I have no expectations. You don’t realize being a man requires more than you give to it. I’m done with you; don’t come around. I don’t have any use for you.”
“Coach, I – ”
Leo interrupted, saying, “I don’t want to hear anymore from you. Move away right now.”
A Paradise police unit pulled up, its siren whooped once, and a uniform officer got out and told everyone to “stand down”.
Jake felt the corner of his mouth and when he looked at his fingers there was a smattering of blood. Back of his neck felt like he’d been hit with a hammer.
Barb and Robby were perp-walked away by the officer like a couple of schoolboys who had been reprimanded.
“What was that?” Jake said, to Leo. “What you just did?”
Leo shrugged, looked away. Embarrassed?
“Wow,” said a kid nearby. “You see Coach Lyon?”
Jake watched Steve and Robby disappear into the police car, touched the corner of his mouth again, making him wince, then said, “Whatever it is,” Jake said, “you still got it.”
“You all right?” Leo asked Jake. “You never were a beauty, but you look like hell. I’m glad to see you again but you’ll be better off back in Texas until things cool down here. You cool down too.” Jake was silent and Leo searched his face for a long moment, then decided something. “But you won’t stay away, will you?”
Jake said nothing, dusting his clothes.
Leo shaking his head. “Why do you make being your friend a high wire act?”
Jake smiled and said, “You’re not enjoying this?”
Leo seemed lost in thought. “I don’t...care for things like this. I’m not a fighter.” He let out a breath. “You... You make pacifism hard work. Glad I got here when I did.”
Jake rubbed his shoulder and said, “You’re glad? I’m ecstatic you showed up.”
Chapter Thirty-Two