Imperfect Escape

by Gregg E. Brickman

  "You've already done that. I don't have any new answers."

  "Have a seat. This will only take a few minutes."

  She dropped into a metal rocking chair that looked fifty years old and set it in motion with a gentle tap of her foot.

  "Tell me about LeRoy. What was he like before he started using so heavily?"

  She smiled, but managed to still look sad and angry. "We dated in high school, you know. Then we reconnected in a treatment center. I really thought LeRoy would make it. Stay clean, you know. He wanted to back then, but—I don't know what happened to him. He uses more and more crank."

  "Who is behind the lab? Not LeRoy, above LeRoy."

  "Don't know. I don't ask. He don't tell." She looked on the verge of tears. Then she stared at her belly while her hands made circular motions. "I'm going to make sure my baby never uses."

  Ray gave her a moment. "Have you seen LeRoy's cousin Richie?"

  "No."

  "How about LeRoy?"

  "LeRoy is dead." Tears rolled down her pock-marked cheeks.

  "Is Richie dead?" Johnson said.

  "Don't know. I expect so. Probably got burned clean up in that fire. I surely haven't seen that boy."

  "Someone was camping out back on your property," Johnson said. "We found the site yesterday and gathered some evidence to identify who it was. I expect that later today they'll tell us either LeRoy or Richie. Which one was it, Kelly Ann?"

  "Don't know nothing about it. I want you to leave now. Please, just leave."

  Ray stepped off the porch and returned to the Taurus. When Johnson joined him, Ray said, "That was informative."

  "How? I didn't hear nothing I haven't heard before from her."

  "She spoke about Vast as if he were alive. I'm beginning to believe the corpse is Richie and LeRoy is alive."

  "But the hand."

  "Oh, I think the prints and the DNA on the hand will match LeRoy. I'm thinking it was LeRoy's hand, but Richie's body."

  As he drove, Ray called the ME, filled him in, and asked him to test the DNA from the hand and the body, too. Ray laughed when the ME said he wished he'd thought of that.

  Chapter 16

  Ray

  Ray strolled into the police department a few minutes after nine on Saturday morning. He wasn't scheduled for duty, but Sophia was at the hospital and he had things on his mind. He planned to work on his murder book, hoping the review of information gathered so far would shake loose another avenue to investigate. His gut told him LeRoy Vast was alive. It made sense. But that didn't tell Ray who started the fire and committed murder.

  He saw Ted Ope's folded walker leaning against the wall behind the dispatch desk, but Ope was nowhere in sight. Curious, Ray waited until Ope came out of the bathroom.

  Ope walked with deliberation, placing each foot with apparent care. Unsteady, he grabbed various desks and rolling chairs for support along the way.

  "Why aren't you using your walker? If you fell in the middle of the night, you'd be in deep shit."

  "Now you sound like my wife before she died." Ope laughed. "But you're right. After I broke my hip, it was never the same."

  "Sorry. I shouldn't flap at you. My fiancée is an emergency nurse, and I hear about the things that happen to people all the time."

  "Hell, everyone else gets on me. You might as well join the fun."

  "I'll stand down, but I do have something to ask. You've been in this town a long time. What do you know about the Vast family?"

  Ope took a moment to handle the call that buzzed in his headset, then he directed his gaze at Ray. "The family has lived in town or on the outskirts for as long as I can remember. There's a slew of them. They keep to themselves, mostly."

  "Not unusual for big country families," Ray said, remembering a similar large family in Parkview, Virginia.

  "No, I don't suppose it is. Anyway, the two older Vast brothers were identical twins, JT and TJ—"

  "Original."

  "Right. Anyway, they married sisters, who were also identical twins. I think JT married Sharon and TJ hooked up with Karon—she spelled it funny, with an o instead of an e."

  "Who are LeRoy's parents?"

  "TJ and Karon."

  "Are they still in town?"

  "No, both couples died in a car wreck out yonder on Bended Branch Road a couple of years back."

  "JT and Sharon had Richie. Any other children?"

  "No, just the one boy."

  "How about TJ and Karon?"

  "They had two boys. Calvin is the oldest. He's about forty now, I think." Ope paused. "The thing is the two families blended together as if they were one. Most folks couldn't tell the parents apart. And, the boys were cut from the same genes."

  "Interesting. Makes me wonder if the ME will ever be able to identify the body he has in his cooler." Ray shifted his weight, then leaned against a desk. "Where did they live? I know LeRoy has a trailer out on Dripping Springs."

  "The trailer that blew up last week was originally the family home of JT and Sharon. The place where LeRoy lives or lived is where he grew up. The house wasn't as bad back then. TJ took care of things. He just couldn't make a decent living."

  "Do you know why LeRoy didn't move his wife into that place when they got married? Johnson told me they lived in the trailer with the meth lab at first."

  "They did. Don't know anyone was aware of the lab back then. It was right after the folks all died, and Richie didn't want to be alone. So, they all lived together. They moved when the wife got pregnant."

  "Good choice on her part, I suspect. Is Calvin involved in the meth trade, too?"

  "Calvin is different from the rest of the Vast clan. He's a straight arrow. He did good in school. Played sports. Pretty much ignored his family and their troubles, though he worked on the farm for his dad when TJ made him. Calvin got religion. Doesn't drink, smoke, or do drugs. He married young, headed to Nashville, got a degree in something to do with computers—her father footed part of the bill, I hear. Now he's a big'un in some business there. He's kept in contact with LeRoy from a distance. Won't give him any more money or help."

  "Would have been nice to know this stuff a few days ago. Getting LeRoy's wife to talk is like pulling teeth from a chicken."

  Ope laughed. "I'd have told you if you'd of asked."

  Ray resisted the scowl he felt forming. "Do you know where I can find Calvin Vast?"

  "I can get his number from my daughter. She stays in touch with Calvin's wife."

  "Thanks. Give a yell when you have it. I'll be in my office."

  Ray grabbed a cup of coffee from the single-serve machine in the break room and went to his office, where he made notes about the interview with Ope. The most outstanding feature was Ope referred to Vast in the present tense—as if he were alive—during the whole conversation. It could be habit. Or perhaps, he hadn't assimilated the possible death. But still, the man was a cop for years. Ray puzzled on what he learned, why he hadn't heard it sooner, and jotted more notes.

  Ten minutes later, his desk phone rang. Ope provided the contact information and address for Calvin, and five minutes later Ray was on the road headed to Nashville for the second time in a week.

  ***

  Ray found Calvin Vast's home in suburban Nashville. Given Vast's affluent job, Ray had expected something upscale, but it was ranch style, small, and rather simple. A pink tricycle decorated the front yard, and a T-Ball tee sat to the side of the door on the front porch. Toys aside, Vast had maintained the yard and house in magazine-cover perfection.

  Vast answered the door chime.

  Ray introduced himself, displaying his badge.

  "Detective, come on in." He guided Ray into the kitchen.

  Ray noted the interior, which was also tidy—save a scattering of toys—sported muted tones and top-quality furnishings. He sat on a stool at the counter and waited until Vast pulled one up on the opposite side. "I've come to talk about your missing brother."

  "Okay. But he isn't missi
ng. He's dead and in the morgue waiting to be released so his wife and I can put him to rest."

  Ray nodded. "I learned today you come from an atypical family."

  "In what way?"

  "I understand your parents are part of two sets of identical twins who married each other."

  "True."

  "Were you more closely linked to your parents' twins than to the rest of your relatives?"

  "Not exactly. It's true we spent almost all day, every day as one big family. However, all of the cousins are tight." Vast seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Listen, Detective. Richie, LeRoy, I, and the cousins were raised as brothers. Some of them opted for the quick money route. I chose school. Now, I hear my cousin and my double-first cousin also died in that explosion. Pardon me if I'm blunt, but ask your questions, and let me get back to my grief."

  "Do you all look the same?" Ray noted his comment about who died.

  "Basically, I suppose. LeRoy and Richie are—were—both around five-ten. I'm an inch taller. Their hair was about the same medium brown as yours, and short like yours. Our dads had that coloring. The other cousins look a bit different, but still like Vasts."

  Ray noted Calvin Vast's hair was blond and worn longer. "Your mother was blonde?"

  "Right."

  "Why are you convinced Richie and a cousin died in the fire?"

  "Didn't they? Ted Ope called after the explosion and told me they were all dead. He—Ted—thinks LeRoy died in the fire, too."

  "I'd believe, in all likelihood, either LeRoy or Richie is missing and maybe on the run and the other is dead. The issue is we haven't identified the body yet."

  "Oh." Vast rubbed a thumb under his eye, removing a tear. "I hope one of them survived."

  "Have you heard from either?"

  Anger flashed in Vast's eyes. "If I'd talked to one of them, I wouldn't think they were both dead. Now would I?"

  Ray thanked the man and headed out, deciding to stop at the ME's office on his way home. He pulled into a strip mall and called ahead, learning Dr. Smith, the ME handling the case, was on duty.

  He swung onto R.S. Gas Boulevard, then pulled into the parking lot in front of the brick and glass building. Dr. Smith waited in the lobby.

  "What can I do for you today, Detective?"

  "Have you had any luck with identifying the remains? Deciding if it's Richie or LeRoy Vast in your cooler?"

  "No, it's most unusual. After you called about their relationship, we sent an investigator to get DNA material from both of their homes—they got a used razor from one and a toothbrush from the other."

  "Well," Ray said, "the reason I stopped by today is that I learned this morning that their fathers were identical twins, as were their mothers."

  "Isn't that the damnedest thing? I'll talk to the lab and see if I can speed things up. We need to see if they can sort out, once and for all, who owned the hand and who owns the body." Smith shook his head, sending thick gray hair flying. "It could be the only way we'll identify the body is for you to find the cousin who's alive. That might be faster than waiting on the lab. We know for certain there wasn't another charred body in that trailer, which means one of them is out there somewhere—dead or alive."

  "My thinking, exactly." He paused a beat. "Do you have anything else for me since we talked last?"

  "No. Wish I did. Did LeRoy's wife identify the ring from the picture I sent you?"

  "Yes and no. The wedding ring LeRoy wore looked like it, but it had been his father's ring. Richie wore the exact same ring, which he got from his own father, even though he wasn't married. The rings were seldom worn and looked new."

  Ray took his leave. On the drive home, he contemplated the interview with Calvin Vast. The man's responses were clearly thought out in advance, except for the slip about who died in the fire. Did Calvin know who was in the morgue? Did he have contact with the other cousin? And, what about the damned hand? Then he moved on to considering how a family interlocked to the point the various members couldn't be identified. And was that what the surviving cousin—if he was surviving—was banking on?

  ***

  Ray stopped in Crestville on the off-chance Shim was working on a Saturday afternoon. Ray remembered Shim commenting he often spent time on the weekend going through his active cases while the office was quiet.

  Ray pulled his unmarked into the restricted area next to the Sheriff's Department and hung his parking permit from the mirror. As he exited, he heard voices raised in argument. He recognized Shim's slight lisp, made more pronounced by the heat in his words.

  As he listened, the conversation floated in his direction. Rather than slamming the door and announcing his presence, he eased it closed, then stepped to the rear to somewhat hide himself but retain his line of sight.

  First Krantz's clear unaccented words. "That son of a bitch Stone reported me to the sheriff. The bastard reassigned me. Didn't even ask for my side of the story."

  "As I heard it, Mullins reported you and asked you be reassigned. You should be glad you're not suspended."

  "What the hell are you talking about? And why do you know about it anyway?" Krantz reddened, then hauled himself up to his full five-foot-six.

  "Well, Bobby," Shim said, his voice calm as ice, "I happened to be in the sheriff's office when Stone called me about you rifling his files."

  "The son of a bitch lied. I had my own files and grabbed an empty desk to use, which happened to be his."

  "Right. Which happened to be in a locked office. You want the man's job. You're looking for something to discredit him."

  "That's a lie. I wouldn't want to work for Mullins if he was the last chief in Tennessee."

  "Then maybe you finally decided to climb in bed with your scuzzy uncle. Is that it, Krantz?" Ray said as he stepped between Krantz and Shim.

  Krantz chambered and let loose a powerful left hook. Ray had expected it and ducked, then decked the younger, shorter deputy with a well-placed punch.

  Shim eased his way behind Krantz.

  Ray saw Shim's eyes flicker in his direction.

  Krantz scrambled to his feet, elbows bent and clenched fists held high.

  Shim took the opportunity to grab Krantz's arms at the elbows and restrain him. "Deputy Krantz, take a breath and calm yourself."

  Krantz struggled to get free.

  Shim held tight, preventing further aggression from Krantz.

  "Thanks, friend," Shim said, "but I was looking forward to decking the boy and you had the pleasure instead."

  "What do you mean boy? You black asshole."

  "Hey, Krantz, at least you avoided the N word." Shim backed off, out of reach. "I called you boy because you are acting the part. Now, are you ready to calm down?"

  Krantz nodded.

  "Detective Stone, would you kindly step back and out of reach of my coworker?"

  Ray did, watching as Shim released his hold on Krantz. Ray said, "Is the sheriff around today? I think he needs to know about this."

  "I'll take care of it." Shim stepped close to Krantz. "Bobby, if you ever take a swing at another officer again, you'll never work here or anywhere else in law enforcement."

  Krantz's facial color changed from angry red to a sick, bloodless white, causing Ray to wonder if he was about to faint.

  Krantz said, "It won't happen again. Don't report me. I need my job. I have family."

  Shim nodded. "We'll give it a thought. Go home. Go now."

  Ray and Shim stood silent as Krantz sulked away.

  "Do you think he'll keep his word?" Ray asked.

  "Hell, no. I think he's in cahoots with his uncle. I'm going to talk to the sheriff and suggest we keep him away from Plateauville's PD entirely. You and Mullins need to pull a raid, keep it within your department, and only call the sheriff for support at the last possible minute. Better yet, I'll update the sheriff, then let me know the when and where, and I'll bring support with me."

  "Then we'll know if Krantz was the leak, or if there is a source at Plateauville
who is passing on the information."

  "Or someone who is leaking to Krantz."

  "There's a point." Ray paused a moment. "What's happening with the investigation into the attempt on Flocker's life?"

  "You already know there wasn't enough drug in the IV to kill him. I still think it was a threat. We found Krantz's prints on the IV. He claims Bubba told him to move the pump and he touched it then. What's odd is that the nurse's prints aren't on the IV bag."

  "Someone wiped it clean, probably after adding the drug to the bag."

  "My thought, too. Krantz admitted going to the room without authorization, but denies trying to harm Bubba."

  "It still could have been a murder attempt—someone who didn't know the effective dosage of the drug, maybe. But, the person would need to know their way around medicine to go into a room and inject something into the IV," Ray said.

  "Krantz knows. He was an army medic before he joined the department."

  Chapter 17

  Sophia

  At two o'clock Saturday afternoon, Sophia pulled a rolling stool over to Kelly Ann Vast's stretcher. Sophia had admitted the twenty-four-year-old pregnant woman earlier in the shift and had spent a few minutes cleaning the bruises and abrasions that covered her arms and face. The self-inflicted horizontal slash on the patient's left wrist bled minimally, but would require sutures and a dressing.

  "Mrs. Vast," Sophia said. "I—"

  "Please call me Kelly Ann."

  Sophia nodded. "Kelly Ann, I have some questions. Let's start with the pregnancy. How far along are you?"

  "Don't know for sure. I figure almost nine months. I haven't had my time for that many months anyway."

  "Have you had prenatal care?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "We'll get an OB doc in here to have a look at you."

  "That's good."

  "While we wait for her to arrive, one of the nurse clinical specialists from OB will come down and assess your pregnancy. Is that okay with you?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you feel your baby move today?" Sophia asked as she applied the fetal heart monitor, then heard the reassuring tones of the baby's heartbeat.

  Kelly Ann smiled. "Yes, my baby moves all the time, it seems." She paused. "Is that my baby's heart? I never heard it before."