Everyone agreed that alcohol was the easiest and least risking service to provide. I would provide the money to buy the liquor. Thus I would absorb the loss. I also agreed to pay Boyd’s expenses, which he would not accept. In the end, he agreed to let me pay for any lodging costs; however, food and drinks he would have had to buy regardless so he would not hear of me footing the bill.
“What about fake name and identity? What do you think about that?” asked Boyd.
“Pick a name you want to use. It doesn’t matter what; I don’t think anyone is going to ask for ID. Pick a city you are familiar with to use as your base of operations. When at all possible, tell real stories to whomever, just change the names. In other words, try to talk in as many half-truths as possible so that it is easier to remember what bull crap that has been coming out of your mouth.”
Boyd decided on Graham Anderson from Florence, Alabama as his alias. Dry counties still existed in that part of the state, and we felt it might give him credibility as a bootlegger who is now trying to spread out. Virgil was even going to get him a fake Alabama driver’s license; he had a friend who was a graphic artist who once told him how easy it was to duplicate Alabama licenses.
“If the fake ID is not hard, then sure, make one up. The more window dressing we have, the better,” I said. “As for the limp, if any asks, tell them the truth; helicopter crash in the Marines. My guess is that a lot of enforcers for organized crime are ex-military, so being a Marine should not work against you; hell, it might even work for you. Besides, you look the part.”
We spent about an hour helping Boyd fill in some backstory for Graham Anderson until he seemed real enough. Then we took turns firing off different questions to see how he held up under pressure. I was impressed. Instinctively, he seemed to understand the importance and safety of half-truths. We all felt he would do fine. Boyd looked as happy as a kid in a candy store and wanted to get started immediately. I wanted him to wait at least until after I had talked to Chief Parker. Maybe I could get some information from him before starting.
“Leave it to an officer to want to delay. I think you guys invented the concept of ‘hurry up and wait.’ I might have one problem, though. My vehicle is pretty vanilla. All I have is a Ford F-150. Nice vehicle, new, clean, respectable. Not exactly good ole boy material.”
“Too bad I drove the Mercedes into Emmettsville yesterday; otherwise I could let you drive that.”
“A Mercedes, you are joking right?”
“Yes, I’m joking, Boyd. I know no self-respecting good ole boy would show up in a bright red German sports car. Any ideas, guys?”
“I got one, but you might not like it,” said Boyd. I motioned for him to continue. “There’s a guy in Huntsville selling a ‘68 Mustang fastback. Not the prettiest car since he ran out of money restoring it, but the engine, drive train, and front end are completely done. He is dumping it for almost nothing since his wife wants him to get rid of it.”
“Is it worth what he is asking?”
Boyd said, “I’m not the car nut you are, L.T., but it runs like a top, seems fast enough, and looks like something a redneck might drive. All for under two thousand.”
“Car is mine when we’re done, but until then enjoy the hell out of it, Boyd. I’ll give you the money. You take care of it. You know what boys, for what it’s worth, we have a plan. I can’t believe a soldier was silly enough to volunteer, but he did.” Boyd simply smiled. “Let’s get what we need to get started and get the show on the road by this weekend. Can anyone think of anything we forgot?”
Virgil answered, “Not to rain on your parade, L.T., but what are you going to tell Ellie? She begged me to drive over here and try to talk you into ceasing all your activity in Emmettsville. I even brought Boyd with me to try and help me talk you into stopping. Instead, he talks us all into getting involved.”
“Yeah, she ain’t going to like me too much when she finds out I’m responsible for your change of heart,” said Boyd.
“First, it’s not like you had to twist my arm. In fact, I thank you for reminding me of who I am, I mean really am. I want to do this. I just started to wimp out when I thought I couldn’t do anything. Second, we won’t tell Ellie that you talked me into anything, so she won’t be mad at you. In fact, no one outside of this circle is ever to know that Boyd did anything other than going back to Huntsville after doing what he came here to do. If I handle myself right, no one will even know I am investigating anything since I will just be your handler, Boyd.”
“Ah, secrets,” said Virgil. “Sounds like the beginning of a slippery slope.”
“I know, but my girlfriend, therefore, my call. Besides, it gives her plausible deniability, thus protecting her if things don’t go well.”
That got nods all around.
Lying to my girlfriend was not a way to build trust. I knew that; however, it had to be done. Even if our mission to find Paul’s killers failed, Boyd’s physical safety must be ensured. Ellie would never purposefully cause danger to Boyd, but keeping her out of the loop also prevented her from accidentally endangering him.
Boyd said it would be fun. Well, the fun was going to begin.
CHAPTER 18
Boyd had his legend in place before he and Virgil traveled back to Huntsville. They followed me to the bank so I could give Boyd the money for the Mustang. I also took out a couple of thousand for LeClair so that he could buy the alcohol. I was glad he was taking care of that for me; I would not have known the best things to buy to look like a legitimate distributor of illegal alcohol.
After dropping off the money at LeClair’s, I went back to my apartment where I discovered three messages on my answering machine. One was from Ellie telling me she was sorry she was not there, but she would see me later, and she hoped my talk with Virgil and Boyd went well. She was going to be disappointed if she found out I was not done with my investigation. Another one was from my mother. Two in one day. Virgil must have called her because she hinted at the fact that “things are not going well” in Memphis and that she worried about me. Good old Virgil, keeping my mother in the loop. I did not want to talk to her, but I was going to tell Virgil to let her know I was fine.
The last message was from Dr. Lowe. In his syrupy, condescending tone, he was calling to inform me that due to my “recent activity,” the board was in session with the lawyers to discuss any potential complications. Obviously, they did not know that the charges had been dropped. However, I did have the day off again, along with the next day. Clever, I thought. Two days off would give them time to send me the letter I knew was coming.
Boyd was planning on returning tomorrow with the Mustang and some gear. He had smiled very mischievously when he said “gear.” Even Virgil was smiling, but neither would tell me what was so funny. Boyd called his employer, and they granted him vacation time for the rest of the week. Since I did not want even one second of Boyd’s time wasted, I decided to see if Chief Parker could see me today. Although the Chief could not talk when I called, he relayed a message telling me he could meet at the station at six that night.
I had a few hours to kill. The first thing I did was see Dr. Hutchens, the osteopath, for some cervical manipulation for the crick in my neck. Next, I stopped by Dr. Lowe’s office, but he was not there. I asked his secretary to inform him that all charges had been dropped. I told her that Dr. Lowe would understand. Finally, before leaving town, I bought Ellie some flowers. Two dozen red roses with a card telling that I was sorry for inconveniencing her earlier. I delivered them myself. She was on the set when she spotted me holding them. The flowers were an obvious happy surprise; however, I was equally as surprised when she ran off set quickly and kissed me. Lisa took the flowers and shooed me out of there.
***
Delivering the flowers myself made me 10 minutes late meeting with Chief Parker, who met me at the door of the police station. There was still a strange buzz in the station, a feeling that things were not normal; however, everyone, including the Chief l
ooked more physically spent than hectic. The Chief did not even speak when he greeted me. He merely turned and walked back to his office where he promptly plopped down into his chair.
“Long day?”
“You have no idea. Well, maybe you do. You did tell me you used to be a Naval Intelligence Officer. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Were you any good?”
“I don’t know. I have a medal that says I was. But I also have a medal for being a hero, although I never felt like a hero. I was just trying to stay alive.” He looked at me tiredly. “Sorry, Chief, I guess I was good in my own way. I only had one case, a long undercover case that ended very well for me. So, maybe I was good, or I just got lucky. Why do you ask?”
Chief Parker asked me to sit. He had a few questions he wanted to ask. Specifically, he wanted to know what made me think Eric had something to do with Paul’s disappearance. I explained the confrontation in the bar again, as well as the discovered wallet and the conversation I had with Eric at the beer distributor. He listened to my description of where I found the wallet. The fact that nothing looked to be missing. The Chief said he would have suspected Eric too.
Chief Parker said, “Another thing, Lloyd Carmichael called my home around midnight last night and told me about the six guys that threatened you on Sunday. He also told me that you suspected that I sent them. I’m here to tell you face-to-face that I didn’t send them. Do you believe me?”
“I’m not sure, Chief. If you didn’t send them, then you must have tipped them off somehow. They knew Virgil’s name and Mr. Deland’s occupation.”
Chief Parker said, “I didn’t talk to anyone about our conversation. When you left, I drove around trying to get the courage to face the fact that my son might have done something awful. Not just a little push, or a fight this time, but something I couldn’t help him with this time. It must have been someone in my office, though, which is why we are having this conversation alone.”
I was not sure if I believed him, although I could tell Chief Parker needed to hear the words. I told him I believed him.
“Good, then you are ready to hear the rest of what I have to say. Yesterday I got a call from someone who told me they saw Eric punch Paul outside of Falco’s on Saturday night. Apparently, he hit Paul in the stomach, knocking him down. The caller said that Eric saw him watching the whole thing, which is why he didn’t call sooner; he is scared of Eric. I talked to Eric, and he admitted to punching Paul; however, he went back and helped him up and apologized and then went over to Jackie’s house to mend things up with her. That’s the last time he saw Paul. When you showed up yesterday morning saying that no one had seen Paul, it really freaked him out.”
“I heard about the anonymous caller.”
“You did? Where?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, I guess not.”
The Chief withheld information from me on our first meeting and had proven himself to be very adept at lying. I wanted him to feel as if I would discover any attempts at lying, so I did not tell him that Mason mentioned the anonymous caller. I asked him if he believed Eric. He did. He also talked to Jackie and got a similar story. I was not sure I believed Eric, but it did appear that the Chief believed him.
“What about last night?” I asked.
“What about it?” he replied in a curt tone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound defensive. What would you like to know about last night?”
“Whose idea was it to attack me? How did they find me? And how is he doing now?”
“Eric told me that Junior and Tyler came by his place and told him you were in town telling everyone that Eric had something to do with Paul’s disappearance. Junior told him that he had run you out of town once and with Eric’s help he would run you out again. Eric didn’t think it would go down like it did.”
“No offense, but I’m sure three big, strong guys like that probably never thought a doctor could kick the crap out of them, so I’m not surprised it didn’t go down as expected.”
“Dr. McCain, I didn’t mean it that way. Eric didn’t expect it to get violent, and when it did, he didn’t want to make it worse. He says he really tried to stay out of it.”
I had witnessed Eric’s reluctance last night first hand. Not once did he throw a punch at me, and I did witness Junior pushing him into battle. I believed he was telling his father the truth.
“I saw a cop car slow down when I passed it last night, Chief. Maybe that same person told Fireplug, I mean Junior, about us on Sunday and was the same guy who told him how to find me last night.”
Parker rested his elbows on his desk and rubbed both hands along his temples. He was troubled, yet tip-toeing around why I was in his office; I could just feel it. “You’re studying me, wondering why I am volunteering all this information; I can see it on your face.”
“Sure.”
“I probably have no right to ask you this after the way my office and this town has treated you.” He paused, apparently afraid to finish the rest of the sentence. I leaned forward invitingly, letting him know he had my undivided attention. “I think I need your help. Someone is trying to frame my son for Paul Deland’s murder.”
***
A day of surprises and bombshells. It is what that Tuesday in August had been since I first found out that I would not face assault and battery charges. I did not expect yet another bombshell. It was far from being the worst day in my life, but I could not remember one with more twists and turns.
For the first time, I noticed that the Chief did not look tired, or worried, he looked downright frightened. His world was being turned upside-down. It appeared someone was framing his son, and he could feel his control slipping away. Now he was reaching out to a complete stranger asking him for help. The poor man was desperate. My inner voice was whispering for me to be careful, urging me to approach this new revelation with a degree of caution.
“What happened,” I asked.
“How much do you want to know?”
“You are asking me for help, right? So, tell me everything.”
Chief Parker told me everything he could. Early that morning, the station received a call about a man sitting motionless in his car in a wooded area. One of the deputies went out to take a look and found Paul in his car tied to the steering wheel. Dead. When the Chief arrived on the scene, he knew it was Paul immediately. The man in the car matched the description. When he saw that the license plate numbers matched, his heart sank. Once he saw the bullet hole in the back of Paul’s head, the Chief knew he needed help and called the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation.
The forensic experts were immediately suspicious. Paul was shot in the back of the head on the right side just above the ear. Powder burns above the ear as well. It appeared the shooter was standing over Paul instead of sitting behind him. Plus, no blood spatter in the car anywhere.
“Execution style shooting,” I said. It was more a statement than a question.
“Looks that way.”
“So why tie him to the steering wheel, I wonder.”
“The forensic guys were talkative enough during the process. Telling me what they saw. Also, talking into one of those little recorders and taking lots of pictures. Unofficially, he wasn’t killed in the car. The whole scene was staged. I’m going to have to wait for the official report.”
“Okay, but you said something about Eric being framed.”
“I told you Paul was tied to the steering wheel. When the techs cut Paul loose, we could tell he had been tied with a tee shirt that had been cut into strips. I recognized the shirt; it belonged to my son.”
I watched the color drain completely out of Chief Parker’s face before he put his head down on the desk. He used his hands to massage his temples. Poor man probably had the headache of a lifetime.
“Are you sure.”
“Yes.” His head was still on the desk. His fingers still running through his hair. It almost looked as if he was pulling hi
s hair.
“Did you say anything?”
The Chief looked up and stared at me. “No, but I know I should have.”
“Well, you didn’t, so you are just going to have to play dumb and let them figure it out on their own, which they will. Forensic science is freaky good now and only getting better. They will probably find DNA on the sweat or something.” Chief Parker was absently nodding his head in agreement; his eyes fixed on some spot on the wall behind me while biting his bottom lip. “Chief.” I waited until I had his attention. “Chief, your son didn’t kill Paul.” I locked eyes with the Chief, staring intently at him to study his reaction.
“How do you know? You were sure he had something to do with his disappearance, why the change of heart?”
For the first time since Paul had gone missing, I really started to doubt Eric had anything to do with what Paul’s disappearance or murder. Paul had died in an execution-style shooting. No way Eric could have pulled that off; he lacked a killer instinct.
“Honestly, because your son can’t fight. I think my mother could kick his butt.”
“Excuse me. You changed your mind because my son can’t fight?”
“Yep.”
“But he attacked you. Maybe you were just the better man.”
“The three of them bit off more than they could chew, no doubt, but he lacked conviction in the fight, not just technique.” I was telling the Chief the truth, at least as I saw it. “In my opinion, anyone who would lack conviction in a fist fight could hardly be seen as a calculated killer. I would bet the house on it. And this was a calculated killing.”
Chief Parker looked slightly relieved. “So now you understand why I need your help. The forensic guys are going to realize that’s Eric’s shirt sooner or later. And when they do, they are going to make Eric a suspect. With his history, plus with the encounter on Saturday night, then the shirt, I know I would think he did it.”
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