Mourning Dove

by Donna Simmons

  “Ron, damn it; Not you, too! Not you, too!”

  ***

  Matthew watched her climb into the ambulance, latched the door, and wrapped twice on the back. It pulled away with sirens drowning out the sounds of the clean up. He turned when Allen walked toward him.

  “Sara just left with the ambulance,” Matthew told him. “They found Ron in the kitchen and it doesn’t look good. I don’t want her to be alone right now. Follow the ambulance to the hospital and stay with her.”

  “Sure, where will you be?”

  “I’m going to look around and see if anyone else is down.”

  Allen looked at Matthew with a question in his eyes. “I would have thought... I mean Ron said you and Sara were... Why don’t you go?”

  “I’m a federal agent, Allen. I have to be here.” Matthew pulled a card from his shirt pocket. “Call me if the situation changes. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

  He watched Allen run back through the gauntlet of vehicles parked in a herringbone pattern all along the road. The local law strutted up pulling on his beltline as if he could breach the belly overlapping his leather.

  “You the agent from the feds?”

  Matthew offered his hand diffusing the challenge. He pulled out his ID and waited for the chief to scan it with his flashlight.

  “Didn’t you show up at the break-in at the Stafford offices?” Matthew nodded. “What exactly does any of this have to do with the feds?” the chief asked.

  “I’m not at liberty to disclose.”

  “Bull shit! There are two people down here, one dead and one that probably won’t make it through the night. Ron Stafford is a friend of mine and I blame all this on the federal government. This man is a decent citizen. He’s had enough loss in his life. He doesn’t deserve this!” By the time the chief finished what was probably the longest speech of his life, his face was florid and he was out of breath.

  “Tell me about the other body. Do you have an ID yet?”

  “You tell me.” The chief led Matthew off toward a mound covered with a black tarp. Matthew pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of his jacket pocket and put them on. He lifted the tarp and stared at the body.

  “Looks like a lot more going on than an explosion,” Matthew said.

  “He had to be standing right beside the stove when it blew,” the chief commented. “Lots of blood here, several holes where something penetrated the body. See the side of his head. It looks like something sharp ripped off an ear. Do you recognize him?”

  “Not yet. You check pockets?” Matthew reached into the dead man’s jeans pocket just above an obvious bullet hole and pulled out an oval shaped key chain, with three keys on it. He flipped it over in his hand and saw a familiar marking. He reached under the corpse and pulled out a wallet.

  “What’s the name on that driver’s license?” the chief aimed a flashlight onto the laminated ID.

  “Jimmy Pike.” Matthew opened the wallet and found forty-three dollars and a Starr Shine business card. On the back was a handwritten phone number. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pen, writing the number on the inside of his wrist.

  “What was that?”

  “A business card,” Matthew said. He stood up, pulled a plastic bag from his pocket and slid the wallet into it.

  “Wait just a minute, Farrell. I’m collecting the evidence here.”

  Matthew dropped the sealed bag into the cop’s hands. “Don’t lose it, Chief.” Then Matthew walked around the back of the house sliding the key chain into his pocket, and began to look for a gun, a 9mm from the size of the holes in Jimmy Pike’s body. Were you defending your home, Ron? Or were you destroying the man who killed your son? In a corner of the shattered kitchen he found a switchblade with a dent in the handle. He closed the blade as far as the dent allowed and slid it into another plastic bag. Then he walked over to the spot where they’d found Ron. Down on his haunches he scanned three-sixty with his flashlight. Pots and lids and shards of clay tile blanketed the floor. Under the fourth lid he found the handgun, bagged it and slid it into his other pocket.

  Out back he scanned the yard and the tree line beyond it. Not far from where he sat watching weeks before, he found the depression where the agent had set up surveillance on the house. Crushed leaves marked the spot; drag marks led farther into the wooded area. With his flashlight following the skid line he found a mound of leaves twenty feet away. Under the leaves was the garroted agent, Thomaston. “You didn’t watch your back, old friend. I told you death would come from behind,” Matthew whispered to the dead man.

  Minutes later, he walked up to the chief of police, “There’s another body in the woods behind the house. He’s the federal agent we had watching the back. My guess is the guy with the missing ear is the assassin. He took out our surveillance, and tried to kill Mr. Stafford. During the struggle in the kitchen, the gas stove exploded.”

  “Wait just a minute here! Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To the hospital; you’ve got my card. I’ve called the agency. This is now a federal crime scene.”

  “This is my town, damn it!”

  “And these are federal agents.” Matthew nodded in the direction of two men in dark suits walking toward them. “Evening gentlemen; this is the local chief of police. He can fill you in. The body of our surveillance man is under a pile of leaves a hundred and fifty feet behind the house.”

  Climbing into his vehicle, he checked his phone. One missed message. Reconnecting he waited for a pick up. “Allen, what’s the word?”

  “He’s gone. He died on the way. How did this happen, Mr. Farrell? How did this happen?”

  “We’ll sort it out. Stay with her until I get there. I’m five minutes away.”

  ***

  Through the emergency room doors, Matthew scanned the crowd of people waiting, some for treatment and others for loved ones. Allen was leaning up against the wall beside the door to a treatment room with his eyes closed. He threaded his way through to him. “Where is she?”

  “She’s in with his body. The ER staff is giving her a few minutes.”

  Matthew walked into the exam room. Sara, perched on a stool, held her husband’s left hand stroking the wide gold ring on his finger. She whispered to a man who had lost the ability to hear.

  He walked up behind her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Just saying goodbye,” she said wiping tears from her cheeks.

  “He was very brave to take on the hit man.”

  She turned her glistening eyes up to his. “What?”

  “He set a trap and took on the hit man without asking for back up. I have only my gut feeling on this; but my gut is almost always proven true.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Retribution, I suppose.”

  “Do you think the other body was…?”

  “ID in his wallet says his name is Jimmy Pike. I suppose that’s an alias. Key ring in his pocket is similar to the one you and Ron found in Carl’s things. It looks like he came to finish the job; but Ron finished him.”

  “Jimmy Pike is the name of the new fitness manager at Starr Shine. He makes nutrition shakes when we skip lunch to work out. It can’t be the same man.”

  “How long have you been drinking these shakes?”

  “Since the beginning of the week. Why?”

  “How long have you been sick?”

  “Since Monday night. I know what you’re thinking but that’s not possible. First of all, Louise is drinking them too and she’s not sick. Second, it is flu season and we’ve all come down with it; some long before Jimmy came on board. The shake seems to be the only thing that soothes my stomach.”

  “Is Louise drinking the same kind?”

  “No, he makes up different flavors for each of us.”

  “Okay, let’s suppose this Jimmy is giving you harmless nutrition shakes, what was he doing at your husband’s house tonight? And why does he have several bullet holes from a gun
your husband had near his body when we found him? Did you get a good look at Jimmy Pike tonight?”

  “I was focused on Ron still breathing. I can’t think about this right now. I need to take care of arrangements.”

  Behind them, two agents and a local cop walk into the room. The older of the two in suits was a pencil thin man with several strands of hair combed over his bald top. “Farrell, we have some questions for the lady.”

  Matthew took a slow breath through his nose. “Sara, meet Mr. Ferguson and Mr. Cross from the Federal Bureau of Investigation and I would imagine the red-haired gentleman in uniform is from the Greenland police department?” The uniformed cop nodded his head.

  “Gentlemen,” she said, wiping a steady stream of wetness from her face. In its place she streaked a line of soot from Ron’s body. She looked like a Sioux warrior intent on doing battle. “Could we possibly find another time and place to talk? I need to make arrangements for my husband’s body. Once I’ve done that, I will answer whatever questions I can.”

  “Ma’am, this is your husband?” asked the local cop.

  “Yes.” She turned back to Ron and touched his scorched face.

  The man in uniform spoke again, “There will have to be an autopsy on all the bodies found at the scene due to the circumstances.” His face glowing red, the cop looked down at his feet.

  She looked up at Matthew and he nodded. “May I set up funeral arrangements for after?”

  “Of course, ma’am,” the uniform said. “Just let us know which funeral home and we’ll take care of it. You can make arrangements from there.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But we really need some answers now,” he pushed.

  “Mrs. Stafford?” asked the short stocky suit with the butch haircut.

  She appeared to be in a daze.

  “Mrs. Stafford?” Mr. Cross asked again.

  “Excuse me,” She pushed through the door and escaped.

  Cross started out of the room after her and Farrell stopped him. “She isn’t going anywhere gentlemen. Give her a moment. Her husband’s partner is outside the door. He’ll watch her.”

  “I’ll make sure,” mumbled the local cop. He pulled the door open and exited the room.

  “What’ve you got that the locals don’t know about?” Ferguson asked.

  After Matthew gave them the inventory of his pockets and his suspicions, he added another piece of the puzzle. “We’re talking about a terrorist deal, gentlemen, and a nuclear explosion on the next NASA launch scheduled for the twelfth. Why don’t you work with Homeland Security in Canaveral?”

  “What are you going to do?” Ferguson asked.

  “I’m going to build a mousetrap.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Dawn lightened Sara’s bedroom window. She could hear whispered voices down the hall. They stayed all night keeping vigil. Vigil for what she wondered. Death had already come knocking. The nightmare had claimed another loved one. Carl, can you hear me? Why couldn’t you stop this? “Talk to me damn it! Give me a sign.”

  Nothing. She hadn’t heard his voice since she left for Chicago. The doorbell rang and she heard someone answer it, a mumble of voices, then the door shut. She stood and peered out. Ruth Obermeyer walked back across the lawn, looked up at Sara’s window then continued walking without acknowledgement. Two birds flew to the feeder in the yard. They looked like pigeons, no, more like doves, almost all white, black tips on their tails as if dipped in ink. They both turned toward her window. Their eyes blinked once, twice. They stretched and morning light filtered through their wings. “Thank you for this,” she whispered when the doves flew off.

  Then she turned from the window. Cass was standing in her doorway with two cups of tea. “You’re awake.”

  “I haven’t slept. Who else is here?”

  “Matthew Farrell got here a little after midnight. We’ve taken turns resting on the couch. He tried to send me next door to get some sleep. I couldn’t leave you. Jordie got here a little after two. He’d been out with friends and came as soon as he got my message. Ruth just brought over a coffee cake. There’s fresh coffee if you’d rather.” She looked down at the two mugs in her hands.

  “The tea’s fine.” Sara reached out for the mug. “You’re an anchor, Cass. Thank you for staying.”

  “You thank me one more time and I’m going to dump Earl Grey all over your white carpet.”

  “Where’s Matthew?”

  “He’s on the back deck talking on his cell. Why don’t you take a shower? You’ll find more energy that way.”

  “Allen?” Sara asked.

  “He said he would take care of notifying people connected with the company and the town. He’s going to close the office for the week after he notifies current clients. You should eat.”

  Sara shook her head. “Just the tea. I have to call Ron’s parents in Florida after I’ve dressed.”

  ***

  The phone rang just as Sara turned off the blow dryer. She wasn’t used to people doing for her. Cass knocked on the bathroom door, “Sara, Robert Starr is on the phone for you. Do you want to take it?”

  Sara opened the door and Cass handed her the cordless. Behind her, Matthew held up a piece of paper torn from a notebook. Block printed on it was a note ‘HELP SET UP RECEPTION AFTER FUNERAL.’ Sara nodded and turned back to the sink. The door closed behind her.

  “Hello, Robert.”

  “My dear Sara, what can I possibly say? Jonathon just called. Elaina and I want to help you in any capacity. You just say the word. You are on paid bereavement leave until you’re ready to come back. Or I can give you an avalanche of work if that’s what you want, after the funeral of course. Tell me what you need from us and don’t try to say there isn’t anything. I know about these things; there are dozens of details we can lift from your shoulders.”

  “Robert, thank you very much for offering. I’m going to need a week, maybe two; then I wouldn’t mind being stuck in a pile of work. You could do one thing for me.”

  “Anything, little lady.”

  “Could you and Elaina arrange a reception for after the funeral? We’ll need it to be held in Portsmouth, maybe at one of the bigger hotels.” She turned around; Matthew was leaning against the bathroom door. Sara hadn’t realized he was still with her. He nodded his agreement.

  “Of course, let us know as soon as you have the funeral arrangements set and we’ll take care of the reception.”

  Robert hung up and she pressed the disconnect button. “Why?”

  “I’m not certain I know which why you’re asking, Sara. Before you explain, how are you this morning? In control? Or do you need more time?”

  “I’m okay for the moment. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around all I’ve lost. When Carl died, I took charge; then I pretended it hadn’t happened because the alternative hurt too much. When the nightmares started to haunt me I just up and left. I told myself I was leaving a dead marriage; but I was running away from the emptiness of my grief. It followed me wherever I went. When the nightmares stopped, the real haunting began. I flew to Chicago and the haunting stopped, but the nightmares returned. I can’t run away from this kind of thing. It goes where I go.”

  “What are you saying to me, Sara?”

  “I can’t ignore the pain of life, lived and lost. I have to confront it, meet the anguish and the danger head on. This time that’s what I’m going to do. Why the note?” She pointed to the paper still in his hand.

  “The bad guys are running out of people. I’m working on trapping the double cross. I could use your help if you feel up to it.”

  “The reception is part of the plan?”

  He nodded and pulled her into his arms. She sunk into his comfort. “I can’t bring any of them back, Sara. But, I can catch the bloody rat that created this mess.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Trust is essential here.” He lifted her chin. “Do I have it?”

  She looked into the steel gray of his eyes for a lo
ng minute then nodded.

  “You can’t tell anyone else, not Cass, not Robert, not Jonathon, no one. Do I have your agreement?”

  “Yes.”

  “In a few minutes, after we get something beside tea in your stomach, we’re going to ask Cass to hold down the castle. I’ll drive you to Portsmouth to make the funeral arrangements. On the way back we’re going to move the prize and set the trap. I know you’re a strong woman, I’m counting on that. But I want you to appear as distraught and confused as you were last night when Cass came to take you home. Can you do that for me?”

  “Who is it, Matthew? Tell me.”

  “I need to catch him in the act. The proof I have is easily excused.”

  “Robert or Jonathon?”

  He smiled at her guess. “Why not me?” he asked.

  “Call it my gut feeling. Which one?”

  “I’ll tell you on the road.”

  “Did you remove the latest bugs and tags from your vehicle?” She asked and he nodded.

  “Maybe we should use my car. You said you checked it yesterday when you scanned the house. It’s been safe in the garage since then.

  “Ruth came over this morning,” she added. “I saw her leaving after she dropped off the cake. Don’t rule her out.”

  “If I didn’t know you better I’d think you were becoming paranoid. Tell me what else you know about her.”

  “If her husband died of natural causes sitting in his recliner in their living room watching the morning news, why was a pad of gauze, with the sweet stink of ether, and a frayed strip of white medical tape under her bed? They’re Mossad; she says retired. I don’t believe it. Not from the masquerade changes he made these last few weeks and the trail he’s made following our activities. I’m not even sure he’s the one who died. If this sounds paranoid, so be it.”

  “We’ll find the answers,” he said. “Are you ready for the next step?”

  She nodded and he opened the bathroom door.

  Cass was slicing a coffeecake into servings when they entered the kitchen. She looked up and smiled. “Are you hungry?” she asked.