by Doug Welch
Chapter 13
Death of a Friend
Alex and I rose early and headed to the firing range.
I wanted to try all of the weapons, so I loaded the trunk of the Camaro with the pistols, the shotgun and the AR-15.
When we arrived at the range, I removed the two new pistols and an ammunition bag, and we carried them to the combination gun store and office. I paid for a four-hour session for both of us, and bought some tools and ear protectors.
It was long for a pistol range, but it had motorized targets that could be adjusted along the full extent. I laid Alex's automatic in front of her on the counter, and stored mine in the belt holster.
“Okay, Alex, let me see you go through the drill.”
She picked up the weapon and flawlessly checked it, disarmed it and set the safety. I was impressed. “Good. You learn fast.”
She grinned. “I've been practicing.”
“Okay, load the weapon.”
She handled the pistol gingerly when it came to loading it. I could tell that she was nervous, but she managed to accomplish it without any major mistakes.
“Now, unload it.” I said.
She removed the mag, checked the action and the safety.
“Good, now reload it and cock it.”
She complied.
“Now, unload it and clear the round.”
She was a little more hesitant in clearing the action, but managed to accomplish it without mistakes.
I had her assume a firing stance, and adjusted her arms, hands and posture until she was in the correct position. I had her repeat the action several times. Finally, when I was confident that she could repeat it correctly, it was time to fire the weapon. I used the target mechanism to bring the paper target to a distance that I thought she and the weapon could hit.
I had her go through the entire drill again, and then told her to click off the safety.
“Okay, Alex. Now the weapon is ready to fire. Hold your stance, and squeeze the trigger.”
Naturally, she pulled on the trigger. The weapon jerked high to the right, and the round missed the target.
“Sis, you pulled the trigger, you didn't squeeze it. When you do that, you cause the gun to move to the right. Also, the gun will kick up, so sight down a little to make up for that. Now, try again, and squeeze the trigger.”
She concentrated, and looked a little surprised when the gun fired. That was a good sign. That meant she was squeezing off the round. The bullet hit the target, a little to the right and down.
“Good, nice shot. Now, empty the magazine. Take your time. You need to get comfortable with the action, and you need to relax more.”
She fired all of the remaining cartridges, until the gun clicked on empty. Only three of the rounds had penetrated the target.
“This is harder than it looks.” she said laying the gun on the counter. “I'll need a lot of practice.”
“Yes, you will,” I said. “It's only natural. Watch me, I’ll fire a few, and maybe it will help you get the hang of it.”
I removed the Glock from its holster and then removed a magazine. I laid both on the counter and used the motorized control to set the target. I wanted to sight-in the Glock, so I set the target for half of my normal distance.
Loading the magazine, I assumed my stance. I fired one round. Since the Glock didn’t have a safety, I laid the gun carefully on the counter, with its barrel pointing down range,
I ran the target close and checked the hole that the bullet had made. It was a little low and left. I sent the target back to its original position and slowly squeezed off the remaining rounds. Clearing the action, I ejected the mag.
I brought the target close and studied the pattern. With each shot, I’d adjusted my sight picture slightly to get a feel for the gun's accuracy. The pattern was adequate, but not competition-grade. I decided I would adjust the sights later, and turned to Alex.
“Let's see how you do again. Did you observe anything useful?”
She laughed. “Only that I certainly don't want to be a bad guy who has you shooting at me.”
She loaded the gun and assumed her stance. She slowly emptied the mag at the target. This time, six out of the ten rounds were within the rings.
“Better, I said, “you'll improve with practice. I'm going out to the car to get the Smith and Wesson and bring some more ammunition. While I'm gone, you can reload the magazines.”
I went out to the car, removed the S&W from the trunk, and carried it back toward the pistol range. As I entered the store, I noticed another car drive up. The occupant emerged. It was Bob Patterson.
“Hi Bob, getting some practice?” I asked as he approached.
“How's it going, Paris,” he said extending his hand. “Just maintaining my qualification. We have to practice each month, part of the job.”
We shook hands. “Alex is inside, I'm teaching her how to shoot.” I said.
“Really? This I've got to see. What's that?” He pointed at my pistol. “Looks new.”
“Smith and Wesson nine millimeter. I just bought it and I haven’t fired it. Thought I'd try it out.” I checked the safety, and opened the action. I handed it to him. He checked the weapon over, closed the action, and handed it back butt first.
“Nice gun. Can I fire it?”
“Sure, after I have my turn.”
We went back to the pistol range. Alex saw who was with me and she smiled. She hugged him and they started chattering away about what was going on in Jamestown.
“Hey,” she said, “did you ever figure out who those strangers hanging around town were?”
I had an idea why she had asked the question, but her face was guileless, showing nothing but polite interest. I listened to his answer.
“They're still here. The Chief visited them. He seems to think they’re harmless. Me? I'm still not sure, but they seem to be minding their own business and not troubling anyone. They're staying out at the old Bowman farm, out on route one twenty-seven. You know the place?”
I nodded and locked eyes with Alex. I saw her head move slightly in affirmation and she returned to her concentration on the paper targets.
I loaded the magazines for the S&W, and ran the target to a comfortable position. I fed the mag into the weapon and took a few practice shots. The pistol's action was flawless. The trigger pull was perfect. I shot the remaining rounds in rapid fire, and brought the target toward me. I checked the pattern, and found that the pistol was true. I had a tight grouping. I was pleased with the weapon.
“Nice shooting,” Bob said. “Did you learn that in the Army?”
“Yeah, I thought about competition, but there were guys better than me.”
“You did that pretty fast,” Alex said. “How come I can't shoot that fast?”
“You're learning, but there's a limit on how fast you can shoot a weapon. You have to bring your sight picture back in line between each shot. You can't just blaze away, you won't hit anything.”
“They do it all the time in the movies,” Alex said.
“That's the movies,” I said “Go ahead, try it. Just remember to keep the barrel of the gun down range. You don't want to hit someone with a stray bullet.”
She loaded the gun, but looked nervous.
“Go ahead, Alex. Try it. Get it out of your system. Pull the trigger as fast as you can.”
Bob and I moved back away from the firing line. Alex fired her gun as quickly as the action would allow it. None of the shots came anywhere near the target. They were hitting the bunker walls and the dirt floor.
After she emptied her magazine, she said. “Okay, I guess I get the picture.”
“You have to learn to shoot the weapon properly, and then we can work on rapid fire,” I said. “You only attempt that if you're trying to keep the bad guy's heads down. Then, you only do it if there's no one around to get accidentally shot.”
We switched the targets to human silhouettes. I showed her the places to aim for. I could tell
that she wasn’t comfortable with the human shaped outlines.
“Face it, Alex, there's only one use for a hand gun other than target practice. It's used to wound or kill some one or some thing to stop them from killing you. You have to learn to aim for the center of mass. You are not a good enough shot to go for the leg or arm, unless you're really close, and then it may be too late. Trying for the head or heart is out of the question. Place your shots so that they hit the torso.”
“It makes me feel sort of sick,” she said.
“I can understand that. The thought of severely injuring or killing a person is not what we consider normal. Just think of it as a target. Forget it's the target of a human. Try to think of the target as though it's a bulls-eye.”
Alex focused on the new target. “You're learning fast.” I commented. You'll have to practice, but I don't think you'll kill anyone by mistake.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she returned, dryly.
“Hey. You're doing fine for the first time. A little more practice, and you'll be giving me competition.” I grinned.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you are an arrogant, overbearing twit, brother dear?”
“I've heard murmuring comments to that effect, but I think they're just jealous. When you've got it, you've gotta flaunt it.”
“Twit,” she replied.
We said goodbye to Bob, and drove back to the farm.
Locking the weapons in the gun safe, we showered, and changed into clean clothes to rid ourselves of the smell of spent gunpowder. When we were ready, we used her truck to drive to Silas' office.
“Good move with Bob,” I said, as she drove towards town. “I was wondering the same thing.”
Alex glanced at me. “You mean about the strangers at the farm?”
I nodded. “Yes. I suppose you were wondering if they could be involved with the people who might be hunting us.”
“Well, they are strangers, and our trespassers could have been from their farm, so I thought I'd get as much information as I could since I had the opportunity,” she said.
“Maybe Silas has some idea of who rented the old farm. Remind me to ask him,” I said.
“You won't have to be reminded, I planned to do it.”
We drove into downtown Jamestown and parked the truck in the same parking lot that we’d used before. The reception area was deserted.
“Where is everybody?” Alex asked.
“I don't know, the last time we were here, there was a receptionist and a security guard.”
We waited in the lobby for a while, but no one came out of the offices to greet us.
“This is pretty strange. It's not lunch time, so where could they have gone?” Alex said.
“I don't know, but I'm starting to get an uncomfortable feeling about this. I think I'll check the offices.”
I tried to open the door to Silas' office, but it was locked. I decided to try the other doors, but as I approached the first one, a door near the front of the building opened, and out walked the security guard. Through the open door, I could see what appeared to be the entire staff of the law office, clustered around a woman seated in the center of the conference room. She seemed to be crying. I recognized the woman. It was June, Silas' legal secretary. The security guard closed the door and approached us.
“I'm sorry folks, the office is closed. You'll have to leave.”
“Leave? Why? We have an essential appointment with Silas,” I said. “He was supposed to give us some crucial information today.”
The guard looked uncomfortable. He thought for a moment and said, “Wait here. I'll see if Mr. Higgins can help you.”
He opened the door to the conference room, entered and closed it. In a little while, the door opened again, and a middle-aged man emerged from the room.
He was short and stocky, and he sported a well-groomed ring of hair that surrounded a bald crown. He had a mournful look; like he had just lost his best friend. “Mister Fox, Miss Fox, my name is Christopher Higgins, Silas' partner. I'm afraid that you've caught us at a bad time.”
I became apprehensive. “Apparently...What's happened?”
A look of anguish passed over his face like he was about to cry. “Silas Brawley committed suicide last night at his home.”
I was stunned. Speechless.
“I don't believe it,” Alex said. “Why would he kill himself? He seemed fine when we talked to him last week.”
“That's true,” I joined in. “He seemed like the last person I would ever have expected to take his own life.”
“We believe that he was despondent about his wife's death. She died of cancer one year ago. Last night was the anniversary of her passing.”
“I didn't know that.”
“It was a tragic time,” he said.
At that moment, the door opened again, and a man emerged from the room. I recognized him as the associate lawyer who had accompanied Silas during the first time we’d met him, but I couldn't remember his name. He beckoned Higgins aside, and conferred with him briefly, nodding at us periodically. Higgins seemed to be hesitant, but after a brief series of exchanges, appeared to reconcile himself. He turned to us.
“Miss Marrow insists on talking to you,” he said. “She was Silas' legal secretary.”
“I know,” I said.
“I'm going to allow it, but she’s very distraught right now. I'm worried about her. Promise me you won’t upset her any more than she already is.”
“We have no intention of upsetting her,” I said. “If she wants to talk to us, I'm more than willing.”
“I think it’s essential that we talk to her,” Alex said. “She may have important information.”
He led us into the conference room. It was obvious from looking at her. June Marrow was close to a total meltdown. As a legal secretary, her demeanor seemed to be a significant over-reaction to the death of her boss. I sensed something else was involved.
She looked up from her misery, and said. “Please, please leave us. I need to talk to them alone.”
The group looked at each other a little nervously, but on the word of Mr. Higgins, left the room and closed the door.
Alex sat beside her and took her hand. “We know how hard it is to lose someone close to you.”
“You have no idea – No, I was wrong, I suppose you do,” she said. “You lost your mother and father recently, didn't you?”
“Yes,” Alex said gently.
June was silent for a while. “Silas couldn't have killed himself. None of the others believe me. I was hoping that at least you would.”
“What makes you think that?” Alex said.
“I know it. I don't think it. Silas and I planned on getting married.” She began to sob.
Again, I was speechless.
“Calm down, June,” Alex said. “Tell us what happened.”
She composed herself.
“It's true that his wife died a year ago, but he wasn’t despondent about it. Silas loved his wife, and when she died, he was sad and lonely. He and I had been working together for a long time, I was divorced...I suppose you get the idea. Anyhow, we fell in love. We agreed for the sake of the families involved and the rest of the town, we would wait until a year had passed to be seen openly together. This was supposed to be the start of a new part of our lives. We had plans. We were going to date, and when the time was right, we would announce our engagement. We were happy. There was no reason for Silas to kill himself.” She started crying again.
Alex looked at me. I didn't know what to say. If Silas' secretary was right, this whole episode took on a whole new sinister aspect. The only thing that could have been implicated in his death was the specter of our mutual problems with the Shadows and his efforts on our behalf. I cringed to think that we might be responsible for his death.
“Is there any other explanation for why he might have taken his own life?” I asked.
Alex was silent. She just hugged June, while she sobbed into her shoulder
.
June stopped crying. She looked angrily at me. “No! It’s those Shadow bastards. They're the ones who murdered him. I want to kill them. They should be eliminated from the face of the earth.”
“How much do you know?” I asked.
“I know enough,” she replied. “I know that Silas was terrified of them. I know that he felt that you two were the only possible people who could oppose them. He called them the Shadow People. He said that they were invisible to us. He said that we couldn't protect ourselves against them. He was hoping that you could help him defeat them, and now he's dead.” She started crying again.
I was shaken. Were the Shadows somehow responsible for Silas' death? Could we have prevented it? How? I thought about it. Silas knew more about the Shadows than either of us. He’d had resources that we didn't. If his efforts couldn't save his life, what defense did an ordinary person have?
The implications were ominous. If the Shadows chose us as an enemy, anyone who was in their way was in danger. I thought of Elizabeth. The thought that she might be harmed because I was with her, hurt like a knife twisted through my gut. I would never allow it to happen.
I looked helplessly at Alex. I wanted to deny that this had anything to do with us, but the last thing that Silas said was that he would contact some people. Had his contacts betrayed him?
“June,” I said nervously, “did Silas say anything about our conversation? Do you know who he was communicating with before he died?”
“Wait here,” she said and left the room.
I turned to Alex. “This opens up a whole new set of problems. It's something I don't want to think about, but I guess we're stuck.”
“Stuck in what way?”
“If it’s true, then anyone associated with us is in danger.”
She blanched. She released her breath with a whoosh. She paused and finally said. “If it’s true. We don't know that the Shadows had anything to do with this. Hell, we don't even know if the Shadows really exist. It's a little premature to consider what I think you're considering.”
“It's something we have to consider. If we're putting Beth and Caesar into harm's way, we need to think about severing the relationship.” At that moment, the conference room door opened.
“Later,” Alex said. “We'll talk about this later.”
June reentered the room clutching a manila envelope. “Silas entrusted me with this before he died. It's for you two.”
I felt the envelope. It had some paper and what appeared to be a key in it. “When did he give this to you?”
“Weeks ago, he said that if something happened, I was to give this to you. I didn't know what he...” She started to weep again.
Alex put her arm around June and settled her in one of the chairs. We waited patiently until she could compose herself. I went out into the office, and found someone who could give me a glass of water. I took it back into the room, and gave it to June.
“Okay, June. I, for one, don't believe that Silas committed suicide. I think you're right. The question is what do we do about it?”
She looked surprised. “I thought you’d know what to do.”
“Not at this moment,” I replied, “we'll think of something.” I tried to sound more confident than I felt. “What was Silas doing about the Shadows before he died?”
“He was trying to find out more information about those people who took over the old Bowman farm,” June replied. “Do you think that they could be the people who murdered him?”
I thought about it. There was no evidence that Silas had been murdered, but if you ruled out suicide, what else was left? If he was murdered, it made sense that it was because he had been working on our case. If the last clue he was investigating centered on that farm, it could have been the motive for his murder.
“Maybe. I think I'll try to find out.”
“We'll find out, you mean,” Alex said glancing sideways at me.
I nodded in agreement. “June what about you? What are you going to do? Are you going to stay on at the law firm?”
“I don't know. I feel so lost. Mister Higgins temporarily assigned all of Silas' cases to one of the young Associates, Kirk Brown. I believe you met him. He's handling your affairs. I may be working for him. Right now, the whole office is in mourning. Everyone liked and respected Silas. We're closing the office today. I don't know when we're going to open again. The associates are going to take turns dealing with emergencies, and all of the court appearances have been postponed. We may be shut down for a week.”
Alex massaged June’s shoulder. “I know that nothing can make up for your loss, but if there's anything we can do, you only have to ask.”
June snapped her head to Alex. Her features distorted with anger. “Just find the bastards. Find them and kill them.”
“Are you going to be alright? Do you need company or a ride home?” I asked.
“Some of the secretaries are going to drive me home and stay with me.” She laughed bitterly. “It seems that Silas' and my relationship was the worst kept secret in the office. They all knew or suspected.”
Paris caught June’s attention and locked eyes with her. “Okay. Listen June, if the memories here become too much for you, you can come work for us after this is all over.”
Alex looked at me, puzzled. “What do you have in mind, Paris?”
I returned her gaze. “Just an idea, we'll discuss it later, along with – other things.”
“Yeah – other things,” she replied gloomily.
We left the room. Alex supported June and turned her over to the care of one of the secretaries.
Higgins stopped us on our way out.
“Mister Fox, Miss Fox,” he said, “I hope that you aren't too upset with what happened. Silas was my partner and best friend. I hope you understand that we are going to close the office for a while until after the funeral.”
“Call us Paris and Alex, Mister Higgins. Miss Marrow already told us,” I said.
Alex joined the conversation. “We were very fond of Silas. When’s the funeral?”
“The funeral’s next Monday or as soon as the family and I can arrange it. This was very sudden. We were all caught off guard. I’ve assigned your representation to one of our Associates, Kirk Brown. I believe you’ve met him?” His eyebrows rose.
“We really didn't get a chance to talk, he was only there as a witness,” I replied.
“Well, maybe after this is resolved, you can come back to the office, and he can help you with your estate.”
Mercenary bastard, I thought. “Okay, after the funeral.”
We left the office, walked to the parking lot, and climbed into the truck. Alex was quiet the whole way. We drove back to the farm in silence, but I suspected that both of us were thinking furiously.
Entering the living room, I said, “We need to look at what’s in this envelope.”
“Open it,” she snapped and flopped down on the couch.
Inside were a letter and a key. It looked like a safe deposit key.
I opened the letter. “It’s a letter from Silas.”
Alex folded her arms across her chest. “Go on, read it.”
Dear Paris and Alexandra,
If you are reading this letter, it is because something has happened to me. I have had a feeling that someone has been observing my actions and movements for some time. I am afraid that they may act to silence me. Therefore, I have taken steps to safeguard you and your estate.
If the worst has happened, please look after June Morrow. She and I have been lovers for some time, and we planned to marry. I am afraid that she may try to do something foolish. Keep this letter in your house as evidence against the Shadows. I think it will be as safe there as anywhere.
I have opened a safe deposit box in your name. In the box are some documents and other things that you may need in an emergency. It also contains some things for June. Please see that she gets them. If you are reading this, then the need to acquire the skills your father posse
ssed is even more urgent. Please try. It's your only defense.
Silas.
I dropped the letter on the coffee table. “Damn! He shouldn't have tried going it alone.”
“What makes you think he was alone in this?” Alex responded. “He could have had a few people helping him. In the end, it doesn't seem to have mattered. They still killed him.”
“You sound like you're starting to believe in the Shadows,” I said.
Alex looked up and then turned her head to look at the window. “Yeah, I suppose I am. At least I believe something is going on. It may as well be invisible people.”
I spread my arms in an appealing gesture. “That leads to the next item on the agenda.”
Alex whipped her head around and glared at me. “Don't go there Paris. I won't even consider it.”
I sat beside her on the couch. “We've got to talk about it Alex. The more they're with us, the more they're a target. I couldn't live if something happened to Elizabeth because of me.”
Alex’s lower lip trembled. “Paris, for a long time I was content with my relationship with you, Mom, and Dad. You three provided all the love I thought I would ever need. I never found anyone else who I would give my life to, until now. It may be selfish, but I won't give that up. I'll kill someone before I'll let Caesar be taken away from me.” She seemed about to cry.
I thought about her words. She was right when it came to our relationships. We had joked about it often, when we talked about our feelings for other people. For a long time, I had been looking for a woman whom I could love with the deep love I had for my sister and parents.
I knew that Elizabeth was that woman, but how could I put her in jeopardy just to satisfy my selfish needs? The turmoil of impossible choices made my chest tight, and I started to get a headache.
We lapsed into silence, each lost in our own misery.