Suddenly, the car fishtailed off the road, jumped the short ditch bordering the road, and struck a tree. The Buick was easily 100 yards away, yet I could hear the impact of the collision with the tree as if it happened right in front of me. Boyd fired off two more 3-round bursts into the side of the car. I noticed he was shooting into the rear of the car to avoid hitting them. It probably was better that he was doing the shooting; I was going to spray the whole car. If one of them got hit, so be it.
The collision with the tree must have shaken both of them up because it was easily 15 seconds before we saw Junior’s door open and Junior climbed out. Jackson also exited Junior’s door and started shooting at us with his handgun. It would have taken a very impressive shot for him to hit anything at that distance, but that did not mean that sometimes a person still gets lucky. Boyd fired off another volley of shots, and both men ducked into cover. “And that, my man, is how it’s done,” he said as he climbed into the Jeep. As I speed off towards Emmettsville, I saw multiple muzzle flashes in the rear view mirror as Jackson must have emptied his pistol.
CHAPTER 37
Junior Estes killed Paul Deland.
Boyd and I both heard him confess. He claimed he did not mean to kill him, whatever that meant. It was an execution-style shooting. A .22 into the back of the head at close range. How would someone accidentally shoot someone in that manner? Murder. No doubt about that. Death was not an unintentional consequence of firing a gun into the back of someone’s head.
We did not have a recording of the confession, but that did not matter. We knew. No more searching for who did it. Now we could concentrate on gathering evidence. Or better yet, letting Chief Parker gather the evidence in a legal manner. Emmettsville was a small town. Boyd and I were not even sure Chief Parker could get a search warrant at ten o’clock at night. Some judge would probably have to be woken up for that. Something that was most likely not a common experience in Felton County. I could already see the fumbling around as Chief Parker tried to figure out how best to get a warrant before morning.
Boyd could not understand why I was so adamant that Chief Parker get the warrant that night. The Estes brothers did not know that we had thrown a microphone in the back seat of their car, so they would not necessarily know they needed to get rid of the murder weapon. Of course, maybe they already had. Junior might have used a cheap Saturday night special like the idiot in Strasser’s bar. No one gets attached to a $20 gun. Boyd was probably right, but my inner voice was still telling me to find the Chief and get him to act as soon as possible. I could not explain the urgency inside me either, but, like always, I trusted my inner voice.
Boyd and I were still in the Jeep. We had already called the police station from a pay phone and asked for the Chief. He was not there. We called his home. He did not answer. We went by his home. He was not there. We tried Eric’s house and cruised by several of the bars and restaurants. No sign of him.
“Boyd, this whole thing is just weird as hell.”
“How so?”
“Think about the circumstances, the timing, on the night of Paul’s murder.” Boyd urged me to continue. “Paul knows he owes Strasser money. He knows some guys are trying to collect. I think he even knew it was Junior, and that Junior lived in Emmettsville. But, on the day we all go hiking, he plans a dinner in Emmettsville on the way back. You’ve eaten at Falco’s, was the food anything special?”
“No, not really. Just food.”
“Exactly. Which means that Paul must have planned on meeting Junior at Falco’s that night. It’s probably why he went out to his car when he did. Maybe he was going to make a payment. Or he had all the money. But something went wrong out in that parking lot, or wherever Paul met with Junior. You heard Junior. He had not planned on killing Paul.”
Boyd was staring at me, digesting everything I had just said. “This Paul guy, a friend of yours?”
“No. Until that day I had only met him at his parent’s house a couple of times. Why?”
“Because, I think you are right. He planned on meeting Junior, or Jackson, or whomever, to either pay off his debt or negotiate for more time. Which makes him a fucking dick?” My head snapped towards Boyd as I arched my brows questioningly. “What kind of asshole plans on meeting with members of organized crime while out for dinner with a bunch of friends? A selfish, unthinking dick, that’s who. His ass was in a sling because he had a gambling problem. No need to include others in his problem.”
Boyd’s revelation created an awkward silence. He was right. It was a dickhead thing to do. Paul should never have brought us into Emmettsville on the evening he was planning on meeting with members of the Dixie Mafia. My nostrils flared as I contemplated how I would have reacted if I had known Paul was meeting with the Dixie Mafia that night. I would have wanted to kick his ass for potentially endangering my friends.
Boyd finally broke the silence. “That doesn’t mean I regret helping you, L.T. Nobody deserves to die over $15,000. And maybe this is callous to say, but this is the most fun I had since leaving the Marines. I mean it. I’ve screwed up a few times. I know that, but I could see myself doing this for a living.”
“Investigating murders?”
“Investigating anything. No police force is ever going to touch me with this ankle. Best I could ever do would probably be a rent-a-cop security guard. No way. Private investigator, though. I’d be my own boss. Call my own shots. It wouldn’t all be like this, I’m sure. Probably do divorces and crap like that to pay the bills, but I’m definitely going to look into being a private investigator when I get back to Huntsville.”
Boyd Dallas, private investigator. It had a ring to it.
We were tired of looking for the Chief and decided to swing by the police station one last time. Officer Willis was working inside the station. He eyed me warily as he approached the front door. He opened an inner door into the glassed off foyer, but did not open the outer door. Instead, he yelled through the glass to ask me what I wanted. There was no use explaining anything to a man like Willis, so I told him to have the Chief call me as soon as possible.
My inner voice was grumbling as it realized it was not going to get its way. Boyd and I drove over to the Traveler’s Inn and checked him out of the hotel. Boyd’s job was done. My job was done. We had found Paul’s killer exactly as I had promised my friend John. Ellie would be pleased. From here on out, it was all up to Chief Parker.
***
The next morning I woke up to the delightful smell of ham and eggs. The clatter of cookware emanated from outside my room along with the soft murmur of more than one voice. I looked at the time. A little after eight in the morning on a Tuesday. I donned some shorts and plodded out into the kitchen area. Boyd and Ellie were talking at the kitchen table. Ellie turned towards the sound of my footsteps. Boyd cast me a quick “I’m sorry” kind of look.
“Good morning, Ellie. What a pleasant surprise.” I leaned in to give her a good morning kiss. She turned at the last moment and let me kiss her cheek. Probably didn’t want me messing up her lipstick. Or maybe it was my morning breath. I need a quick cover story to explain Boyd’s presence. “I see you’ve met Boyd again. He came up last night to deliver a car I bought from Huntsville. A 1968 Ford Mustang GT fastback. 390 cubic inch V8. Just like the one Steve McQueen drove in Bullitt.”
“Boys and their toys,” said Ellie. “Three cars are not enough for a guy who walks almost everywhere?”
“Oh, I’ll be selling it when I’m done. Should make a pretty penny. Going to sell the Mercedes too when I get it fixed up again.”
Lying to my girlfriend yet again. But I had decided from the beginning that only Virgil and LeClair would know Boyd had helped me with my investigation. It was not a girlfriend thing. It was a civilian thing. Every one of us that sat at that table in LeClair’s bar was former military. We all knew the importance of secrets. And we all knew that they were often unavoidable.
Maybe I was being silly. Maybe I was being stupid. But it was t
he way I wanted it, so it was the way it was going to be. At least until Junior was locked away. Then, maybe, I would let the cat out of the bag.
“Ellie, you will be glad to know that I’m officially done with the investigation.”
“You’re quitting?” Her mouth was agape.
“No, I’m done. I know who killed Paul.”
The look on her face was priceless. “Who?”
“Junior Estes. And before you ask if I’m sure, let me tell you that I heard him confess with my own ears. He was talking to his brother and didn’t know I was listening. He was the one hired to collect Paul’s gambling debt, and something went wrong. I don’t know why it went wrong, and I don’t care. He did it. Now it’s up to the Chief now to make sure justice is served. It was something he promised.”
“So you aren’t going to get Junior yourself?”
“No, I’m done. I did the Chief’s investigation for him. It’s up to him to make it all legal. Get a warrant, find the murder weapon. All that kind of stuff. I wrapped it up for him and put a ribbon on it for him.”
“What about John? Didn’t he want you to avenge Paul for him?”
“I don’t do revenge. I do justice. Which reminds me, Strasser shouldn’t be bothering you anymore either.”
“Why not? What did you do?”
“I had a talk with him, face to face.” Ellie’s eyes bugged open. “Don’t worry; it was no big deal. I was able to convince him that I knew he had nothing to do with Paul’s murder and that he did not want me as an enemy. He was remarkably receptive to the idea.”
“You threatened a crime boss? My god, L.T. Are you crazy?”
In my heart of heart, I always knew I would find Paul’s killer. Maybe not in a week and a half, but I knew I would solve the case. Then I would put it all behind me and lead a normal life again. Somewhere along the line, investigating Paul’s death had started to feel more normal than abnormal. If felt right. It felt just. It felt righteous. I liked the feeling. My girlfriend did not share my feelings. Not once had she congratulated me. No “job well done.” Not even a trace of elation that it was all over.
The night after stopping Tom Harty, I had warned her that I was not a nice guy. I was not benign. Sometimes, true altruism requires a departure from the niceties of life. Sometimes in life, the gloves have to come off. Sacrifices have to be made. At times, the nicest thing you can do for one person is to hit another person over the head. Or threaten a crime boss.
I answered the best way I knew how. “Well, crazy about you, so it was worth the risk.”
Nothing. No smile. No thank you. She was stone-faced. Ellie asked a few more questions, some I was able to answer, the ones that might have implicated Boyd, I sidestepped. Worry crossed her face when I told her that I had not been able to reach Chief Parker yet, although I expected him to call soon.
After a few more minutes she got up to leave for work. I walked her to the front door and opened my arms for a hug, which she returned. Once again, she allowed me to kiss her on the cheek. “By the way,” she said, “I notice you still haven’t got that TV.” Unlike the last time she said that to me, this time there was no teasing tone to her voice. She left for work without looking back once.
When I returned to the kitchen table, Boyd apologized. Ellie had let herself in with her key caught Boyd. He told her that he was just visiting, which she seemed to accept. “We were having a pretty friendly conversation until you came out here. After that, you could cut the tension in the room with a knife.”
“So you noticed it too, huh?”
“Notice it? You could feel it, dude. It permeated the room like a bad fart. I don’t envy you; you have your work cut out.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Don’t Sherlock me. You’re Sherlock; I’m Watson.”
“Watson was a doctor, you know.”
“Yeah, I know, but it also says he was a good doctor,” he said with a mocking tone. “Besides, you can’t be both Sherlock and Watson, and I say you are Sherlock.”
I said, “I won’t argue with you. Just know I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Oh, I know that. You still be fumbling around trying to—.”
The telephone interrupted Boyd. It was Chief Parker. We exchanged hellos.
“I understand you were trying to reach me last night.”
“I was.”
“What’s up?”
“I found Paul’s killer last night. Eric is off the hook.”
“Let me guess, someone who works for Darwin Strasser, a Dixie Mafia boss down in Tupelo.”
“No. Where did you ever get that idea?”
“Jackson Estes called me early this morning and told me that he figured out who killed Mr. Deland. He told me that everywhere he turns, he keeps running into you and that you keep harassing him and his brother. So, to get you off his back, he did his own little investigation and found the killer himself. The guy was hired by Strasser to collect the gambling debt, and he got carried away and killed him instead.”
What in the world is Jackson up to now? That was the first thing that came to mind. Jackson, the brains of the outfit, was trying to find a way to work the angles. He was getting squeezed on two sides, and he needed to try and get Chief Parker on his side. A nice counter-move on his part. Too bad I knew he was bluffing.
“Chief, one of Strasser’s men didn’t kill Paul. Junior killed Paul. I heard him say it with my own ears. I threw a bug in the back of their car last night and listened to their entire conversation. Junior said it was an accident, but he said it out loud. No doubt about it.”
“A bug?”
“You know, a small covert listening device.”
“I know what a bug is. You threw one in the back of their car? And you overheard Junior admit it?”
“You bet your ass, I did. And I have a witness. Someone that was in the car with me. Chief, I followed the brothers down to Tupelo last night and watched them kidnap one of Strasser’s men. When I caught up with them later, they didn’t have the man with them anymore. My guess is he is the one they are going to try and pin this on. Just like they tried with Eric.”
Complete silence on the other end of the phone. He was obviously trying to digest all the new information.
“You have a witness, you say? This witness own a machine gun?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” It was a true statement. An MP5 uses pistol ammunition, which makes it a submachine gun; machine guns use rifle ammunition. I was always amazed at how many people were not aware of the distinction. Regardless, I was a little surprised that Jackson told the Chief about our little encounter last night.
“So no one shot up their car last night just south of the Tennessee border?”
“I didn’t say that. You asked about a machine gun. If one were to study Jackson’s Buick forensically, I’m positive they would only find 9mm bullets. Don’t believe everything you hear, Chief. Let’s get to the brass tacks of the situation, Chief. Junior killed Paul. It’s a damn fact. I wrapped this all up for you; now it’s your job to find the murder weapon and other evidence. I’m done. If you need help, I suggest you call Mark Sande of the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation in Memphis and ask for their help. They can’t help without you asking. Trust me, I know.”
“Just like that, you’re done?”
“What else you want me to do? I can’t arrest them. Me doctor, you cop. That’s how this works, remember.”
“But what about proof of what you’re saying. Jackson swears it was some guy named Raymond that works for Strasser.”
“Chief, I didn’t promise you proof, at least not proof that will stand up in court. I promised you I would find the killer, which I did. Junior Estes. Besides, this Raymond fellow you are talking about. I pulled a Raven HP25 off of him a couple of days ago. Anyone stupid enough to be carrying a .25 caliber Ring of Fire Handgun is not smart enough to pull off an execution-style shooting and remember to wipe the car down and not leave any prints. Regardless, I
’m still done. Get a warrant. Tap their phones. You will find what you need, trust me.”
“So you didn’t tape it?”
There was something strange in the Chief’s voice, some queer aspect in his voice inflection. He knew Boyd, and I had recorded the conversation Junior had with Strasser’s goons. But I never told him about that tape. And neither Junior nor Jackson knew of the tape either. Only Strasser knew. And some agents down at the TBI.
“Oh, I taped it. I always tape everything. I was a Navy spy, remember.” I was lying my ass off about the tape. “Of course, the tape would not be admissible in court. So you would still have to get your own evidence.”
Chief Parker went quiet again. It was nearly a full minute before he started speaking again.
“I guess this is where we part ways then, huh?”
“Unless you are going to deputize me and get me a warrant to record them, then there is nothing more I can do within the confines of the law.”
“Why let the law confine you now? You, or your friend, shot up their car last night, and you’ve been illegally recording people all over Felton County.”
“I am neither confirming nor denying what you say, Chief. I can tell you are irritated with me, and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you a murder weapon. But you have to admit, I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Plus, things have heated up between the Estes boys and me to the point that it’s best we not run into each other again.”
“I’m sorry, Doc. You are right. Thanks for everything. I’ll let you know when I’ve busted Junior. Bye.”
We both hung up. It was obvious Chief Parker was not happy. I couldn’t understand why. Unless he was so far in over his head that he didn’t know how to investigate a case even when pointed in the right direction. That was not my problem, though. Maybe John was not going to be happy either. Once again, not my problem. Like I told Ellie; I don’t do revenge. If I could forgive the drunk that killed my dad, then John would have to settle for justice himself, not revenge.
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