by Tom Wallace
“What spurred your interest in Dottie Barker?” Mike asked, repeating an earlier question from Karen.
“My main interest is Russell Barker. Dottie’s name just happened to come up.”
“Have you come across anything interesting about Russell?”
“You mean, other than what Karen just told me? No, not really.”
“This has been a most-naughty breakfast conversation,” Mike said. “And despite my love for salacious gossip, I need to get moving. I’m already late for work. No doubt, people are screaming at me.”
~ * ~
Mike paid the bill as promised. Although most of the food was left uneaten…except for Mike; he cleaned his plate…we went outside, said our goodbyes, and headed toward our respective vehicles. I was silent, my thoughts vacillating between what I’d just heard about Anne Bishop and my relief that Angel had behaved in a mature manner despite being in the presence of a woman she had little respect for.
“I find it laughable that Karen is so outraged by Dottie Barker’s sexual activities,” Angel said, bringing an end to her mature behavior. “Has the woman looked in a mirror lately?”
I started to respond, but didn’t. What could I say? Whether she intended to or not, Angel’s condemnation of Karen was also a slap in my face. A well-deserved slap, I might add. After all, I was equally guilty.
When we were in the car, Angel said, “If you’re worried that Anne was involved with the Barkers, don’t be. Trust me, she wasn’t.”
“How can you know that?”
“The same way I know she will never sleep with you. I realize such a statement may crush your ego, but it’s true. I knew it the first time we met her. Anne is a highly moral, highly principled woman. She is not the type to leapfrog from bed to bed, sleeping around. And she’s certainly not into anything kinky.”
“Only one way to know for sure.” I picked up my cell phone and placed a call to Anne. She answered after several rings. “Anne, this is Nick Gabriel. I was wondering if you were free for dinner tonight. If I remember correctly, it’s my turn to pay.”
“I have a better plan,” Anne said. “Why don’t you and Sam come over to my house for dinner? Lasagna, a salad, a bottle of good Merlot? Does that sound tempting?”
“Yes, it does. But Samantha won’t be able to make it. She has other plans for tonight.”
“Sorry she won’t be joining us, but I’m glad you told me. I’ll cook for two rather than three. Will six-thirty work for you?”
“Perfect. I look forward to seeing you then.”
Angel was grinning when I ended the call. “Don’t get your hopes up, Dad,” she teased. “You’ve got no shot with Anne.”
“Here’s a thought: How about you stop concerning yourself with me and focus instead on what you have to do tonight? Think you can do that?”
“Relax, Dad, I’ve got this.”
I wanted to believe her, but…the mission we had planned wasn’t without peril.
~ * ~
Angel peeled off and disappeared into her room once we returned to the motel. Presumably, she required the alone time to get mentally prepared for tonight’s task. Being more apprehensive than my daughter, and therefore more nervous, I sought a distraction from my justified concerns about what was in the works for tonight. So I grabbed my laptop, strolled down to the front lobby, and sat on the big sofa. Except for the lady working the front desk, I had the area to myself, which saved me from the kinds of distractions I didn’t need.
My goal was to learn all I could about Russell Barker. It was hard for me to believe he wasn’t involved in some capacity with one, possibly two, homicides. A deep dive into his background could provide a glimpse into what that involvement might be.
Of course, I had to face the fact that there was no guarantee I would find anything about the man on the Internet. Not everyone has a past worthy of national or international social media exposure. In fact, only a small percentage fit into that category. Fortunately for my purposes, Russell did.
There were several Russell Barker-related articles on the Internet. Most were brief, but one was quite lengthy. And that one included a detailed biography of Russell. Precisely what I was hoping to find.
Russell Barker was born in Baton Rouge on April Fools’ Day in nineteen fifty-two, thus making him sixty-eight, or slightly older than Karen Tucker guessed him to be. His parents divorced when Russell was ten, and he moved to New Orleans with his mother. In nineteen-seventy he enlisted for a two-year hitch in the Army, spending nineteen seventy-one serving as a rifleman for an infantry company in Vietnam. After leaving the military he took several stabs at college life, but failed to graduate.
Russell married Gloria Stafford in nineteen seventy-eight, a union that ended when she and their ten-year-old son died tragically. Mother and son were on their yacht when it exploded and was consumed by flames. This happened in nineteen-ninety while they were living in Palm Beach. It was ruled an accident. According to the authorities, the explosion occurred when a faulty gas line ignited while Gloria was cooking dinner in the cabin. Russell was not on the yacht at the time of the explosion, which turned out to be a twin blessing for him. Gloria happened to be the heiress to one of the big clothing companies, while Russell, as her surviving spouse, inherited virtually all of her fortune.
Russell relocated to Muhlenberg County five years after the death of his wife and son. No reason was given for his move from a super-wealthy area like Palm Beach to the economically challenged home of dead coal mines. Then in nineteen ninety-five, despite having no background in law enforcement, Russell decided to run for sheriff. Bolstered by his enormous wealth, and his combat experience in Vietnam, he easily won the race. He held the office for twelve years, then stepped down, choosing instead to run for magistrate rather than seek another term as sheriff. Once again he won with ease.
Dottie Barker, previously Dorothy Conrad, was mentioned only once in the article. This came in a reference to her marriage to Russell at age nineteen in two-thousand-four. If my math is correct, this makes her thirty-five, not quite half as young as her husband. I have to believe Russell has to work double time keeping up with her.
Closing my laptop, I contemplated what I had just learned about Russell Barker. Two points in his biography stood out. First, there’s the sad tale of his wife and son’s tragic death. Was it truly an accident, or could there be more to the story? That was worth looking into. Second, why did Russell leave Palm Beach for Muhlenberg County? No one is his or her right mind makes a move like that unless there is a compelling reason, and I can’t begin to fathom what that reason might be. This was another question begging to be answered.
“Okay, Dad, I’m taking off,” Angel said, snapping me back to the moment, and to my concerns for her safety. “Lose the worried look. Nothing bad will happen. I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t have to do this, Angel,” I said. “We can always find another way.”
“Nope, this was my idea, and I’m going through with it. There is no backing out now.”
“Promise me you will be careful. And don’t take any dumb chances. The first sign of trouble, you walk away.”
“Relax, Dad. Have a pleasant evening with Anne. Like I told you, I’ve got this.”
I had a single thought as she walked out of the Best Western: I certainly hope so.
Twenty-three
Cars were entering and leaving the Convention Center when Angel arrived at six-thirty. The parking area was lined with vehicles of all sizes and shapes, many on the prowl for a place to park. Angel hadn’t expected this much activity, mainly because she wasn’t aware of the outdoor swimming pool, which was packed with people. The sounds of laughter, splashing water, and blaring music, typical for a crowded swimming pool, came through loud and clear on this warm summer night. Angel had her doubts about finding a parking spot, and she only did when a large truck pulled away from the space it occupied. She cut the engine, grabbed her equipment bag, got out, locked the car, and heade
d for the Convention Center door.
Inside the big building, she stopped at the desk, introduced herself, and then informed the young lady behind the counter that she was on vacation from California. Then she inquired about the possibility of swimming in the indoor pool. The young lady said a ten-dollar fee was required for a guest to utilize the pool. Angel paid the ten bucks, signed in, thanked the young lady, and moved off toward the pool. She hadn’t lied about wanting to swim, but that wasn’t her main reason for being there. She had come to meet someone.
And that required making a detour to the exercise room.
Dorsey McElwain had just stepped down from a treadmill and was wiping sweat from his face with a towel when he saw Angel come into the room. He picked up an orange-colored energy drink and took a long swig. He was breathing hard, his face was red, and a vein in his neck was pulsating. It was obvious to Angel that he had put himself through a strenuous workout. And judging by his physique, he was no stranger to serious exercise. Only then, seeing him in gym shorts and no shirt, did Angel see how ripped Dorsey McElwain was.
“Kind of lost, aren’t you?” Dorsey asked.
“Nope, I’m right where I want to be,” Angel replied.
“Why are you here?”
“To swim. I’d heard about the Olympic-size pool and thought I would like to check it out.”
“How can you do that? You aren’t a member here.”
“I paid the ten-dollar guest fee.”
“If you are here to swim, where’s your bathing suit?”
“Underneath what I have on.”
Dorsey emptied the bottle and tossed it into a recycle container. “Hope you are a competent swimmer, because there’s no lifeguard on duty,” he said. “Hate to see you drown.”
“Don’t concern yourself with that, Dorsey. I swim like a dolphin,” Angel said. “And, no, you wouldn’t shed a tear if I did drown. We both know that.”
“That’s your big problem. You think you know everything.”
“Here’s a suggestion, Dorsey. Rather than argue or debate my problems, why don’t we make an attempt at getting along? Bury the hatchet, as they say.”
“I don’t think that’s likely to happen anytime soon.”
“Why not? Come on, follow me. We’ll talk while I swim.”
“What’s with this attitude change?” Dorsey wanted to know. “Why are you suddenly being so friendly to me?”
“Because I’m a friendly girl, that’s why. Is that too hard for you to believe? Life is too short to waste precious time arguing or fighting.” Angel walked to the door. “Swimming? You in or out?”
“Out.”
“Tell you what. If you don’t want to swim, that’s okay. No problem. You can sit on the side and watch me swim. That way, we can still talk. And when I’m finished, I’ll shower, get dressed, and we’ll go somewhere, have a soft drink, and continue our talk. Does that sound like a plan?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“It would be a lot better if you’d swim with me,” Angel said.
“Can’t. I didn’t bring my bathing suit.”
“You know, Dorsey, it’s too bad we aren’t at a lake or a river. If we were, we could go skinny dipping.”
“Like I’m supposed to believe you would swim naked with me? Not a chance in hell that would that ever happen.”
“Why not? I’ve done it countless times.”
“Swim naked? I don’t believe it.”
“Dorsey, as a true California girl, I can assure you that there are two things we can’t tolerate… pubic hair and tan lines. And tan lines aren’t possible if you don’t wear a bathing suit. I’m going to the pool. You coming or not?”
Angel walked away, Dorsey nipping at her heels. Inside the pool area she removed her Tee-shirt, shorts, and sandals, slipped on her goggles, and jumped into the water. Dorsey eased to the side, took off his running shoes, peeled off his sweat socks, sat, and dangled his feet in the water. He kept his eyes glued to Angel’s every movement as she effortlessly swam laps. So did a half-dozen other male swimmers who were present. Angel’s skimpy two-piece bathing suit was not something they were accustomed to seeing. Although none of them would dare complain, her suit was probably a little too risqué for the Central City Convention Center pool.
When Angel finished her laps, she swam to the side and dog-peddled in front of Dorsey. “Still worried about me drowning?” she said, removing her goggles. “Or did I successfully pass the swim test?”
“There’s something not right about all this,” Dorsey said, shaking his head. “You’re working an angle, aren’t you?”
“Why are you so suspicious? Don’t you think it’s possible that I just want to talk? For us to be friends?”
“Want to know what I really think? Your father sent you here to grill me for information. That’s the only reason you are being so friendly.”
“Boy, you must really hate my father,” Angel said.
“You got that right. Your dad is a jerk and a sorry piece of shit.”
“Dorsey, a minute ago I told you that under different circumstances I would swim naked with you and what do you do? You verbally rip my father. How dumb is that? You really need to recognize a winning hand when you have one.”
“Well, maybe I shouldn’t have said those things. It’s just that I don’t trust your dad. He’s always pumping me for information. I don’t like that.”
“You can relax, Dorsey. My father is not going to question you again. You are officially off the hook.”
“Yeah, why’s that?”
“He has concluded that you don’t know anything that would be helpful to his research,” Angel said. “So you can rest easy.”
“That’s what he believes?” Dorsey said.
“Yes. He told me that earlier today.”
“Well, he just might be wrong about that.”
“In fact, my father is planning to speak with someone else tomorrow at noon. He’s certain this individual will have plenty of information to share.”
“What individual are you referring to?”
“A high school pal of Dad’s. I don’t know his real name, but everyone calls him Rabbit.”
“Rabbit? That squirrelly little douchebag? That’s the guy your dad is going to speak with?”
“That’s his plan.”
“Hell, I know ten times more than Rabbit ever will,” Dorsey said.
“Doesn’t matter now. Anyway, Dad doesn’t seem to think you do.”
Angel swam to the ladder and climbed out of the pool, all eyes continuing to focus directly on her. Picking up her towel, she briefly dried off, and then wrapped a second larger towel around her, effectively ending the show that had kept Dorsey and those other men so spellbound for the past forty-five minutes.
“Let me make a quick change, then we’ll go somewhere,” Angel said, using her hands to wring water from her hair. “Meet me outside the locker room. Shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes.”
Dorsey didn’t protest or show any signs that he planned to leave. He stayed put, firmly planted a few feet from the locker room door. Just exactly where Angel knew he would be.
~ * ~
While Angel was hanging out with Dorsey McElwain, her new BFF, I was at Anne Bishop’s house. We had just finished an excellent meal and were well into a second bottle of Merlot. In private, Anne was even easier to be around than she was in public. I was perfectly comfortable in her presence, and genuinely enjoyed being in her company.
Prior to leaving for Anne’s house, I made a follow-up call to FBI agent Greg Harkins in Owensboro. I wanted to confirm that our noon meeting tomorrow in my motel room was still on. Greg said it was. Good, I thought, after ending the call. We had much to discuss.
Unlike most women I’ve been around, Anne lived a rather Spartan life. At least, judging by the interior of her house, that was the only conclusion I could come to. There was nothing extra or extravagant in the entire place. Just the necessary furniture and nothin
g more. We were in what she called the family room, yet there wasn’t a picture, plaque, trophy, or any other item that gave the room even the tiniest hint of personality. There wasn’t even a clock on the wall. This certainly didn’t resemble any family room I’d ever been in.
“Why don’t you have any photos?” I finally asked her.
“Well, who would you recommend that I have photos of?” she answered.
“I don’t know. Family, I guess.”
“I never had a family. My birth mother was barely fifteen when she had me. Too young, she felt, to keep a kid. That was probably a good decision on her part. Long story short, I ended up being raised by several foster parents, none of whom I ever really bonded with.”
“Did your mother ever try to contact you?”
“I have never laid eyes on the woman.”
“Living with different foster families. That must’ve been tough.”
“It was rarely easy or pleasant, but as you can see, I survived,” Anne acknowledged.
“You not only survived, you thrived,” I pointed out. “College, law school…those aren’t cheap. How did you manage to handle the cost?”
“Scholarships, grants, loans, and I worked my ass off. From the age of fifteen until I earned my law degree, I never had fewer than two jobs. There were many times I had more than two. After an uphill struggle like that, this lawyer gig is like being on vacation.”
I replenished my glass with more wine, not necessarily out of need, but rather as a way to fortify myself for the road I was soon to embark upon. You know, the old liquid courage thing. I’m not sure how much wine was required to achieve that goal, but after taking a sip I decided it was time to wade into dangerous territory.
“I did some digging on Russell Barker and what I found was intriguing,” I stated. “What more can you tell me about him?”
Her smile indicated she knew where I was heading with this. “Intriguing, in what way?” Anne said.