by Alexie Aaron
Cid felt a wave of relief wash over him. It wasn’t Luminosa who killed these men. This would help in convincing the volatile ghost that she could still seek redemption. It also put the investigation in the solid, capable hands of Sheriff Will Grady.
Chapter Eighteen
Sheriff Grady put down the phone after Cid’s heads-up call. He walked out of the office and waved a deputy over. “Sims, I’d like you to do a little research for me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Look through the old files 1964 and 1965, and see if there are any missing persons reports in and around this area for two laborers skilled in masonry - you know, bricklayers. And keep this job and any information you obtain between the two of us.”
“Yes, sir,” the deputy said and pulled on her jacket. “If memory serves me, the files are off-site at the county storage building.”
Grady nodded. He was very pleased with Deputy Sims. She had been with the department for ten years when a drunk driver smashed into her car while she was giving a speeder a ticket. The county wanted to retire her on disability, but after a heart-to-heart conversation, Sims agreed to come back and supervise the office. She didn’t let a reconstructed hip and knee get in the way of earning her sergeant stripes. Sims did better than just pass at the gun range, she excelled. Grady had taken a lot of heat from the town council when he promoted her, but no one could give him a valid reason not to do it.
His phone rang again. He picked it up.
“Sir, I have a call for you from a Jake, no last name.”
Cid’s web guy was calling him. “Put him through, Deputy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hello, this is Sheriff Grady.”
“I have some sensitive information for you,” the odd cartoon-like voice said. Cid did say the computer guy was different, but this was a bit extreme.
“Hold on, let me get ready to copy.” Grady pulled out his keyboard and said, “Go ahead, Jake.”
“Calvin Carl Franks, also known as CC Rider, has ties with Pedro Bautista that go back to Vietnam where they both served in the same unit. According to candid comments from other surviving soldiers, the two were the best of friends. Pedro Bautista died September 8, 1962. Franks rotated out of active duty November 8, 1965. He disappeared for one year, paper-wise, and reappeared in New York City where he opened a small gallery.” Jake went on to give a very similar history to the one Grady had previously obtained.
“Is there any connection on either alias to the drug trade?” Grady asked when Jake had finished.
“Aside from warnings about marijuana use during his military career, no.”
“How did he make his money prior to his military service?”
“One moment… Worked as a luxury car detailer; drove a Yellow Cab; had a Capital City Sun paper route as a teen in Lincoln, Nebraska. Do you wish me to continue?”
“No. Is there anything in his past that would connect him to Stepner?” Grady asked.
“Aside from the friendship with Pedro Bautista Senior, no. He is currently the owner of the Valley View Gallery, has rented a home on River Ridge, and owns the High Court motel.”
“Thank you, Jake.”
“My pleasure. Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Hypothetically, I could have traced a lot of money running through two banks in Stepner County to an offshore concern.”
“Hypothetically, would you be able to track whose accounts they are originating at?”
“I have two names. Are you ready to copy?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Grady looked at the names he typed into his confidential file before he closed his eyes, seeing the faded yearbook photos on the wall of his father’s garage. He nervously bounced his thumb on the spacebar. “Jake, thank you. A few pieces are falling into place.”
“Sir, I don’t have to remind you to go through proper channels to obtain legal documentation. Hypothetical is one thing, solid evidence is another,” Jake counseled and disconnected the call.
Grady secured the file before he got up from his desk. His father had been on the right track but lacked the support he needed to make arrests. True, these two individuals could just be rich men hiding money offshore, but the amounts were identical. What were they up to? And what kind of game was Calvin Franks playing? It wasn’t kismet that brought the man here from New York. He came with a purpose.
Grady picked up the phone. “Deputy, call Calvin Franks and see if he has time to see me. I’ll come to him. Don’t bring him in,” Grady instructed.
“Yes, sir.”
Grady sat back down and began structuring a plan on how to deal with the other two. He had to be careful. These guys could disappear easily if they caught wind of him sniffing around. “What happened out there in 1964 that was worth killing for?” he asked himself. “And what was so bad that fifty-two years later they’re still trying to cover it up.”
The phone rang. Grady picked it up.
“Sir, I have Cameron Jones on the phone.”
“I’ll take the call.”
“Sheriff Grady?” Cam asked.
“Yes, Mr. Jones.”
“I think you need to come out to High Court. We have found two bodies buried at the old road marker. I’ll send you the GPS location.”
“It could be an old graveyard,” the sheriff suggested.
“These two victims were laid to rest with .38 Specials,” Cam told him.
“On my way,” he said, disconnecting the call. He called his deputy back. “Tell Mr. Franks, when you talk to him, that I’ll be at High Court, and it’s imperative I speak to him soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
Grady checked his firearm before he picked up his hat and left his office.
Cid went in search of Faye. He had seen a distortion in the forest and assumed it was her keeping an eye on the forensic investigators. He needed to talk to her in private, someplace where the sharp eyes of Amy, or the security cameras, wouldn’t pick up on what would look like a one-way conversation. He moved down the road and picked up his phone. He pretended to make a call and placed it to his ear.
“Yes, I’m looking for Faye. Can you connect me? Yes, I’ll hold. Hello, I’m looking for Faye.” He continued this charade as he walked back towards Cabin 4.
“I’m here,” Faye said, appearing beside him.
“Faye, this is Cid. Cid Garrett.”
“Oh, we’re doing improv. I can play along.” Faye looked around them. “No one within earshot.”
“I need you to tell Luminosa that she didn’t kill the bricklayers. They were shot with a .38 Special. That’s a handgun.”
“Got you. Why would anyone kill bricklayers?”
“To hide that they were ever there in the first place,” Cid said, nodding in the direction of Cabin 4. “We need to see what’s behind that wall. Preferably before Sheriff Grady arrives.”
“I can move through that wall, but I can’t see; it’s dark. Wayne was going to tunnel under and hand me a flashlight.”
“What if I drilled enough holes to let light in?”
“Whatever is faster,” Faye said. “I’ll see if I can find Luminosa and tell her she’s not responsible for the bodies. Although, she told me she buried them.”
“Why would whoever killed the bricklayers just leave them lying there?” Cid asked her.
“They left the Bautistas. Whoever this is, has no regard for human life. Be careful, Cid.”
“I will. I’m going back to talk to Wayne. I’ll meet you at Cabin 4 in ten minutes.”
Wayne insisted that he be the one to drill the holds through the mortar. He used a drill bit they employed when they needed to string wire or small pipes through rafters. Afterwards, Cid attached an activated light disc to the opening. When they had six holes spaced out across the wall, Cid told Faye to go on through.
“Who would have thought a ghost needed light?” Wayne said to Cid.
“It surprised me too. Murphy creates his own light, but
I didn’t want to hurt Faye’s feelings,” he admitted.
“She is a wee bit sensitive,” Wayne acknowledged and added, “and a little slow.”
Faye heard their conversation as she slowly moved though the bricks. She found that after the bricks was a layer of plaster and then wooden slats. When she stepped out on the other side, she stood in awe. The beams of light that came through the holes in the wall were like laser beams catching several clotheslines and a multitude of spider webs strung in-between with their light. The ceiling looked like a large intricate glowing lace tablecloth.
Faye twirled around, forgetting briefly why she was there. She stopped and examined the room in which she found herself. There were shelves on the inside wall up and around a doorway. On the shelves were stacks of moldering paper. A large metal machine took up most of the room. It looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place where she had seen something like this before. She moved around the machine and stopped as two large burlap-wrapped bundles took up the space. Were they bodies? She really didn’t want to find out. She would just tell Cid and Wayne what she could see and leave them to deal with whatever was in those bags.
She noticed that the outside wall was stone like the rest of the cellar. On closer inspection, there was a two by three metal door with a combination lock on the outside next to the large steel lever. “A safe! I found a safe!”
Faye tried, unsuccessfully, to move through the metal door. “Must be lead in there,” she said. She wondered if Luminosa could blowup the door like she did the cop car. “Nope, too dangerous.”
Cid and Wayne stood waiting impatiently for Faye to come back out. When she did, they hit her with a barrage of questions.
“One at a time please,” she said, irritated.
“Tell us what is on the other side of this wall?” Cid requested.
“There is a room with a bunch of clotheslines strung overhead. The walls are lined with shelves. Many of them have lumps of what could have been papers on them. In the middle is a large machine.”
“A washing machine?” Wayne asked.
“Why would there be a washing machine in a hidden room?” Faye fired back.
“The clotheslines?” Wayne pointed out.
“Oh, no, it’s not a washing machine, but I have seen something like it… Could have been at the library or the Gazette. Can’t remember.”
“Anything else?” Cid asked.
“Two long burlap-wrapped bundles.”
“Could the machine have been a small printing press?” Cid asked.
“Why would you think it could be that?” Faye asked.
“Think, Faye. Settle down and think. There are lines to hang wet sheets up to dry…” he led.
“The Gazette has this mega-monster in the basement.”
“The Gazette has an offset printing press,” Cid interpreted for Wayne’s benefit.
Faye continued, “But this one is smaller and… Why does the term letterpress come to mind?” Faye asked herself.
“It could be a letterpress machine, but why would one be in the cellar of a motel cabin?”
“Counterfeiters!” Wayne said excitedly. “Maybe Miguel Bautista saw someone printing money!”
“It would explain the safe in there,” Faye said offhandedly.
“What safe?” Cid and Wayne asked.
“Next to the burlap-wrapped lumps is a safe like you see in an Al Capone movie. Didn’t I tell you about it?”
“No.”
“It’s large, about two by three feet. It’s stuck in the foundation wall.”
“About the burlap-wrapped lumps…” Cid started.
“Yes?”
“Could you go back and see what they are?”
“I could, but I won’t,” Faye said and disappeared.
“Sometimes she’s not so helpful,” Wayne said.
“Would you voluntarily open a bag if you suspected it was a corpse?”
“No. I see your point. I was thinking while I was looking at those holes we drilled.”
“Yes?”
“What if I brought down the pipe inspection scope I have on-site? It has a camera that gives you a fisheye view of whatever is in front of it. I could feed it into one of the holes, and we wouldn’t need to bother Faye further. We would be able to explain ourselves better to Cam when we ask for his help with the burlap-wrapped bundles.”
“You’re a genius,” Cid said, patting the man on the back. He waited for Wayne to leave before he called out, “You can come out of hiding, Faye.”
Faye reappeared.
“Did you speak with Luminosa?”
“Yes, I did. Didn’t I tell you?”
“No, you’ve been very close-mouthed about things today.”
“Sorry, something’s on my mind. I told her that we found the bodies, and that it looks like she didn’t kill the men, unless she had a .38 Special on her.”
Cid tried not to smile. He could just see the expression on the other ghost’s face when Faye asked about the handgun.
“It’s not impossible she could have killed them with a handgun. I could fire one. I doubt I could hit anything, but I can manipulate quite a few things.”
“I know. You’re very talented.”
“Even if I can’t make my own light?” she snapped.
“I figured your attitude was a bit snarky. I’m sorry, Faye.”
“Oh, I’m not mad at you. You need to tell Wayne that I’m not slow. I just can’t glow in the dark like a dime-store spook. Golly gee willikers, I’m a respectable spirit.”
“Yes, you are, and I can tell that you were a lady in life,” Cid said to calm her down.
“Tell me about this glow in the dark stuff.”
“I promise to, after I ask Murphy how he does it.”
“This Murphy, is he a friend of yours?”
“I like to think so.”
“And a ghost. You have a ghost for a friend?” Faye asked for clarification. “Why would a ghost befriend you?”
“Now I’m offended. I thought we were friends, Faye,” Cid said.
It was Faye’s turn to apologize. “I’m your friend, but I can’t be your girlfriend, Cid, because I’m dead.”
“I realize that. Besides, I think you’re a little sweet on Jesse.”
“HIM!”
“Yes, him.”
“No no no, he’s a womanizer. I’m trying to reform him so he’ll find a nice young woman and settle down.”
“That’s very brave of you,” Cid teased.
“Cid, don’t take this the wrong way, but as soon as I figure out who I am and who killed me, I’m taking the next light beam to paradise.”
“As I expect you would. Can we get back to Luminosa?”
“Why?”
“How did she respond to your information?”
“Oh, relieved, I guess. I didn’t stick around because I didn’t want the vampire to suck up my energy.”
“Has she done that before?”
“Oh, yes, she’ll draw whatever energy she can get her hands on. I’ve seen her draw the fire from hell a few times.”
“You know that there isn’t any fire in hell,” Cid said.
“And how do you know that, smarty pants?”
“Murphy’s been there.”
“I’m beginning to hate this Murphy. Murphy can do this and Murphy can do that. Well, where is Murphy now? Yes, that’s right. All you have is little ole me, and you treat me like crap.”
“Ahem,” Wayne said from the top of the stairs. “Cid, could you help me with this thing. It’s a bit unwieldly for one person to navigate down steps.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t ordered me to lug that down too!” Faye exclaimed and disappeared.
Wayne was going to speak, but Cid put his finger up and listened for a moment. “Go ahead, she’s really left this time.”
“What was that all about?”
“Faye’s having a confidence problem at the moment.”
“She doesn’t like being
compared to your Murphy,” Wayne said.
“Do you think so?”
“She’s just jealous. She’ll get over it.”
“Hope so, because we really benefit by having her around,” Cid said truthfully.
The two carried the machine down, and Cid drilled a hole through where Faye had indicated the original doorway was. He stood back and said, “After you, professor.”
Wayne set the machine up, and Cid fed the camera through the drilled hole.
“The only problem is that this is used to being in a drain where the confines of the pipes guide it. We’re going to have to hope it snakes around that printer.”
“Or under it,” Cid said as he looked over Wayne’s shoulder at the monitor. “What’s that?”
“I’ll pull back,” he said. “And change the light…”
“It’s a bullet casing,” Cid said. “A .38 caliber.”
“Damn. So, by the prickling of my thumb, something like murder this way did come.”
“You’re a poet.”
“And I didn’t even know it,” Wayne joked.
Cid guffawed before soberly instructing, “Save a still shot of that.”
“Saving. Time to call the sheriff or Cam or both. I’ll have the beams for upstairs put in tomorrow afternoon at the latest, and then we can knock out this wall,” he promised.
“I better let Kiki know what’s up.”
“Save it for tomorrow,” Wayne advised. “She’ll have her hands full with Mimi playing nurse tonight. So, she won’t have much patience to deal with this.”
“I’m going to let you talk me out of speaking with her, because, frankly, I’ve had enough of the Pickles sisters for one day.”
“Now, don’t lie. It’s just the one, Mimi, that you have a problem with.”
“Well, yes. It’s hard to think of her as a grade school teacher.”
“I think she’s different in the classroom,” Wayne said. “She has caused a lot of trouble for Kiki over the years.”
“Really?”
“She likes to masquerade as her sister.”
“I can see how that would confuse the people Kiki normally deals with. Why doesn’t Kiki style her hair differently?”