Divine Rebel

by Tom Wallace

  “If I do talk to you bastards, it will get me killed.”

  “Not if you tell the truth. You do that and I’ll make sure you’re protected. I give you my word on that. However, if you don’t come clean about what you know, you’ll end up behind bars. You also have my word on that.”

  “Behind bars? For what? I haven’t committed any crimes.”

  “Rabbit, there have been three homicides,” Greg pointed out. “The way I see it, at a bare minimum you are on the periphery of two of those murders. And you are without any doubt an accomplice in one. Jail time is staring you squarely in the face.”

  “Accomplice?” Rabbit said, shaking his head. “You fucking guys don’t have a clue about anything.”

  “That’s why we’re here, Rabbit, so you can enlighten us and put us on the same knowledge level as you are. But before you decide to hit us with lies and deception, make no mistake about this… we aren’t quite as clueless as you might think.”

  “Really? Why don’t you tell me what you think you know?”

  “I’ll ask the questions, Rabbit, beginning with why did you say Samantha got Dorsey killed?”

  “Because he was seen talking with her last night at the Convention Center. Certain people were afraid of what he might tell her, so they shut him up for good.”

  “Perry Jackson shut him up, isn’t that what you’re saying?”

  “You think Perry murdered Dorsey?”

  “He’s the logical candidate,” Greg stated.

  “And you’re the logical candidate for the loony bin. Perry didn’t kill Dorsey. Perry was like Dorsey’s father, or his older brother. If Perry knew who murdered Dorsey, he’d be on the warpath looking for the killer. Why would you even think Perry killed Dorsey?”

  “Because Perry and Dorsey murdered Sharon Anderson. And like you just said, when Perry got word Dorsey talked to Samantha at the Convention Center, he had no choice but to silence him.”

  “Well, you are half right about the Sharon Anderson murder. But only Dorsey was involved, not Perry.”

  “You want me to believe Dorsey killed Sharon all by himself? That’s a big pill you’re asking me to swallow.”

  Rabbit shrugged. “I didn’t say he acted alone, did I?” he said.

  “Who was with him, Rabbit? You?”

  “I’ve never killed anybody.”

  “You know what, Rabbit? I believe you.”

  “Well, hallelujah, you finally see me as I really am…an honest man. You’ve cleared me, so if it wasn’t me, who’s next on your list?”

  “I’m positive Russell Barker was behind the murders, but I don’t see him as a hands-on killer,” Greg noted. “Are you saying Russell helped kill Sharon?”

  “Man, you guys are way more clueless than I ever imagined. You really think Russell was involved in the murders?”

  “It had to be Russell. Who else could it have been?”

  “Why would Russell kill her?”

  “Sharon Anderson had something on him. Maybe she threatened to expose what was going on in the Barkers’ house, or perhaps she was squeezing him for money. She was working some angle that Russell couldn’t let continue. So he had her killed. When Dorsey became a liability, Russell had him taken care of.”

  “Nick, did you come up with this insane plot?” Rabbit said to me.

  “It’s not insane, Rabbit, and I think you know it isn’t,” I said.

  “And what about Luke Felton? Was Russell also behind that murder?”

  “You tell me, Rabbit,” Greg said. “That’s the one you’re directly involved in.”

  “How do you figure I’m involved?”

  “None of it would’ve happened if you hadn’t taken Todd Brown to the American Legion that night. Once you had him there, either you or Dorsey McElwain drugged him and set him up as Luke’s killer. Then one of you, most likely Dorsey, actually murdered Luke.”

  “You’re forgetting that I left the Legion before Dorsey and Todd did. I’d say that clears me of murder.”

  “It might,” Greg agreed. “But you are still an accomplice, even if it was Dorsey who doctored Todd’s drink.”

  Rabbit looked directly at me and said, “If me and Dorsey didn’t put anything in Todd’s drink, and we didn’t, yet someone did, then who does that leave?”

  “Enough with the riddles, Rabbit,” I responded.

  “Think about it, Nick. It’ll come to you.”

  “Chet,” Angel interjected. “It was Chet, wasn’t it?”

  “Finally, someone who truly understands the picture,” Rabbit said. “Your daughter is smarter than you, Nick.”

  “Wait a second, I’m lost,” Greg said. “Who is Chet?”

  “Bartender at the American Legion,” I replied.

  “What reason would this Chet have for doctoring Todd’s drink?” Greg asked.

  “Do I have to spell everything out for you?” Rabbit answered.

  “Yes, please do.”

  “Chet murdered Luke Felton. He also murdered Sharon Anderson and Dorsey McElwain.”

  “On Russell Barker’s orders, right?” I said.

  “God, no, Russell never killed anybody.” Rabbit shook his head. “Haven’t you put the pieces together yet? Dottie was behind the murders. All of them.”

  Though I had been convinced the murders were done at Russell’s behest, I wasn’t completely surprised to learn that Dottie was the one who ordered them done. I’m not sure I have a good explanation for why I wasn’t shocked by this news. After all, I had never met the woman in person, only seen her in action on the TV screen. But for some strange reason I wasn’t surprised.

  “Why would Dottie have those three people killed?” I inquired.

  “She and Chet were lovers.”

  “How does that lead to Sharon’s murder?”

  “Something must have gone wrong involving Sharon and she had to be eliminated. Don’t know about you, but that’s how I see it.”

  “How do you know this, Rabbit?”

  “Dorsey told me.”

  “Dorsey actually told you that he and Chet murdered Sharon Anderson?” Greg asked.

  “Yes, he did.”

  “What is Chet’s last name?”

  “Woodward.”

  “If you knew all this, Rabbit, why did you seek out Todd at the Speedway and then have him drive you to the Legion?” I said. “You had to know you were delivering him to his executioners.”

  “No, you’re wrong, Nick. I was asked to take Todd there because he owed Chet some money.”

  “That didn’t sound fishy to you?” I said.

  “No, not at all. Chet often sold drugs. I just figured Todd failed to pay Chet what was owed. That’s the only reason I took Todd to the Legion. I certainly never suspected they were planning to set him up for murder. Hell, I don’t know why they did, or why they killed Luke.”

  “How did Chet and Dorsey lure Luke to the murder site?” Greg said.

  “I can’t answer that question,” Rabbit said. “You just need to believe I had nothing to do with those murders.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Sharon Anderson’s murder three years ago?”

  “I didn’t know everything then. It was only later that Dorsey told me about it.”

  “Was it Dorsey who told you about Dottie’s involvement?”

  “Yeah, he did. See, Dorsey had a thing for Dottie. He’d do anything she wanted him to do. He couldn’t say no to her.”

  “And you expect me to believe Russell wasn’t aware of this?”

  “Russell is more clueless than you are. The only difference is he doesn’t want to know anything; you guys want to know everything.” Rabbit stood and looked at me. “Are we done here? I’ve told you all I know. Can I go?”

  I turned to Greg. He nodded his consent.

  “Go with God, Rabbit,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, if certain people find out I spoke with the FBI, God will be seeing me a lot sooner than I planned,” Rabbit said, walking out the door.
<
br />   Twenty-eight

  “What is truth?” Wasn’t it that murderous thug Pontius Pilate who posed this infamous question? According to Scripture, yes, he was the guy. Was he being sarcastic or profound? Only he could answer that for us. Why am I thinking about that at this moment? Because it is a question I’m now asking myself. Was Rabbit telling the truth, or was he simply spewing out more of his usual steady stream of bullshit? Only Rabbit, like Pontius Pilate, has the answer.

  I sensed that Greg believed Rabbit. Me? I’m not so sure. Yes, I’m positive there were elements of truth in what Rabbit told us. I do believe his narrative about Dottie being the mastermind behind the killings, and how she used Chet to actually do the dirty work. I also think he was truthful about Dorsey McElwain’s involvement in the murders. Those aspects of Rabbit’s story rang true to me.

  However, other parts of his story came across as false, misleading, or perhaps more to the point, they led to further questions. For instance, did Rabbit lie about his involvement in any of the killings? I don’t think he did, but how could I know for sure? Was he being truthful about leaving the Legion before Dorsey and Todd did, or was that another lie? What about Perry Jackson? Was he truly not one of the killers? And are we to believe that Russell Barker was completely blind to all that was taking place around him? Is it plausible that he didn’t know his beloved trophy wife was bumping people off with regularity? Or that she and Chet were lovers? Was he really that tuned out?

  Answers to those questions would come later, if they came at all. But there was one question that could be answered once we got back to the Best Western. I would put in a call to Richard Luckett, husband of Brenda, with whom I had spoken last week. Brenda was the lady who verified that Todd and Rabbit were in the Legion on that fateful night. But according to her, she had been sitting with her back to the bar, and therefore was unsure if Todd spoke with anyone else, or when he actually departed. She suggested I speak with her husband, who was serving as a drill instructor with his reserve unit at Fort Knox when we talked. Brenda said his seat faced the bar when they were at the Legion that night. Hopefully, he could give a more precise time when Todd departed, who he left with, and did he at any time interact with Dorsey McElwain.

  “Are you going to the Barker house to interview Dottie?” Angel asked, breaking more than five minutes of silence. We were in the car driving through soggy downtown Central City. “Or is Chet at the top of your list?”

  “Right now, we’re going back to the motel,” Greg answered. “I need to find out more about Chet before I speak with him. My laptop is in the trunk. I’ll take it to your father’s room and see what I can find out about the guy. I want to have every possible advantage when I do interview him.”

  “How much of Rabbit’s tale do you believe?” I said to Greg.

  “Surprisingly, most of it. Why? You didn’t buy it?”

  “I’m more skeptical than you are, Greg. Maybe my view is skewed because I’ve known Rabbit all my life. He has always had a loose relationship with the truth. He had a knack for saying things that served his best interest, true or not. Why do you believe he was being truthful?”

  “For starters, he didn’t hesitate to point the finger at Dottie and Chet. No way was he lying about that. Giving them up put his life in danger, and I don’t see Rabbit as a guy who wants a bullseye on his back. He’s right about one thing… if those two find out he talked to me, he’ll be victim number four. And that’s the reason why we don’t have to worry about him alerting them to what we know. It’s also why we need to nail this thing down today.”

  “You may be right, Greg, but even if Rabbit was telling the truth, there are still plenty of questions left unanswered.”

  “Which ones trouble you the most?”

  “Why was Luke murdered? How did they get him to the murder site? Where is the murder weapon? And finally, how were the killers able to get Todd to his room without anyone hearing them? Two men lug a drugged teenager up the stairs and no one wakes up? How did they manage that trick?”

  “The answers are out there,” Greg said. “We just have to find them.”

  As we were nearing McDonald’s, Angel said, “Would it be okay if we stopped for something to drink? I’m dying of thirst.”

  “Go inside, or the drive-thru?” Greg asked.

  “Drive-thru works for me.”

  Several cars were lined up, but it didn’t take long to place our orders and pick up the drinks. Once we left McDonald’s, we drove the final mile to the Best Western. Unlike Angel or me, Greg chose to park in front of the motel. Maybe he felt there was less chance someone would fire a shot at us if we parked in the front lot.

  As the rain began to come down more forcefully, Greg popped the trunk, grabbed his backpack, closed the trunk, and ran toward the motel. Angel and I were already inside when he came in. He was dripping wet. One of the maids who happened to be standing a few feet away pulled a towel from the big linen basket she was pushing and handed it to him. He thanked her profusely, slung the backpack over his shoulder, and began drying his hair as we headed down the hallway.

  Angel went to her room to freshen up for what lay ahead. Greg followed me into my room, opened his backpack, took out the laptop, set it on a desk, and turned it on. Within seconds he was embarked on his mission to find out everything he could about Chet Woodward.

  With Greg’s attention focused entirely on his research, I decided to head back to the main lobby and make my call to the Lucketts from there. Greg didn’t need any distractions, and me questioning the Lucketts would almost certainly interfere with his concentration. We both needed space to do our thing.

  Sitting comfortably on the sofa, I phoned the Lucketts. Brenda answered quickly, put me on hold, and went to get her husband. It wasn’t long before Richard was on the phone. Brenda must have informed him about our previous conversation, because he didn’t bother with introductions or small talk. He cut straight to the chase.

  “You bet I saw Todd Brown at the American Legion that night,” Richard Luckett said. “He showed up with Rabbit, which I thought was odd. Rabbit is a regular, and he drinks with just about everybody, but I’d never seen Todd there before. And for Todd to be drinking? That was really strange. He’s not a member at the Legion, and he’s the same age as our oldest daughter, which means he’s too young to be served alcohol. Chet never sells to minors, yet he definitely served Todd that night. I have no idea why he did.”

  “You said Todd and Rabbit arrived together,” I stated. “Did they also leave at the same time?”

  “No, Rabbit left first. I’d estimate at least half-an-hour before Todd did.”

  “Who did Todd leave with?”

  “Dorsey McElwain. But Todd really didn’t leave. It’s more like Dorsey carried him out.”

  “Dorsey carried Todd?”

  “No, he didn’t physically carry Todd, but he was holding him up as they walked out. You know, he had an arm around Todd to keep him from falling down. I figured Todd had too much to drink, or he couldn’t handle his booze. He looked like he was really loaded.”

  “Was Todd putting up any kind of struggle?”

  “Todd was in no shape to do much of anything.”

  “Todd told me he went to the rest room at some point while he was there,” I said. “Did you happen to see him leave, then come back a short time later?”

  “It didn’t register with me if I did,” Richard said.

  I knew my next question was a longshot at best, but I had to ask it. “Did you see Chet or Dorsey slip something in Todd’s drink?”

  Richard paused momentarily, then said, “No. Are you implying that Todd was drugged?”

  “In your estimation, was Todd there long enough to get so hammered that he had to be carried out of the place?”

  “Time isn’t the real issue, is it? It would all depend on how much alcohol Todd consumed, and how well he could hold his liquor.”

  Richard checkmated me on that one. “You’re right, Richard. Tho
se are the key factors. Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me. You’ve been a big help.”

  “I pray you get that poor kid’s conviction overturned,” Richard said. “I know he’s had his problems, but I’ve never believed he was capable of murder.”

  I started to remind Richard that Todd’s conviction came courtesy of his confession, but I didn’t. Instead, I thanked him a second time, ended the call, and traipsed back to my room. I was eager to find out what Greg learned about Chet, the homicidal bartender.

  ~ * ~

  “Chester Arthur Woodward was born in Nashville in nineteen fifty-three,” Greg read from notes he’d scribbled down. “His parents divorced three years later, he and his mother moved here, and she eventually married a coal miner. Chet dropped out of school after the eleventh grade and enlisted in the Army, where he served for three years, including one in Vietnam. He was given an honorable discharge upon his release from service. He’s been married and divorced twice, and he has a daughter he seldom sees. His criminal record isn’t bad, but it’s far from perfect. It includes a DUI he got not long after leaving the Army, and three assault beefs, all of which were dismissed when the men he allegedly attacked dropped the charges. All three of those incidents occurred within a five-year period in the nineteen-nineties. Following his time in the Army, he went to work as a brakeman for the Illinois Central Railroad. When he retired after twenty-five years on the job, he started working at the American Legion as a bartender. He is now considered the Legion’s manager. Like I told you, Nick, there’s not much in his past that stands out, and certainly nothing that would identify him as a potential killer.”

  “Those three dropped assault charges sound suspicious,” I responded. “One, I might say, ‘okay, the guy changed his mind, didn’t want to go through the hassle of a trial.’ But all three? No way. That tells me Chet got to them, made threats, either to the person pressing charges, or to his family and they dropped the charges out of fear.”