***
I found him in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the paper. He never moved or acknowledged my breakdown. Instead, he placed the paper on the bar, turned and reached into a cabinet for another cup. Then he closed it, reached for the coffee pot and filled it up, before turning and handing it to me. As I was about to take it from him, he held on for just a moment until our eyes met. With his other hand, he patted me on the back and delivered a broad smile. I nodded back at him and took a sip. That was Ronald: solid and firmly in my corner as always. For just a small moment, the weight of my guilt and shame fell into the background. Then he turned, picked up the paper and continued to read. The moment had passed, time to move forward.
I noticed the walls were painted a nice earthy brown that went well with the hardwood floors. I could see Ronald had added his own touch, with pieces of wood he had made into chairs. The bar in the kitchen was obviously handmade, as were the countertops and cabinets. Overhead, the lights were the new LEDs that were all the rage. I walked back into the living room and saw a picture of my mother and father hanging on the wall above the bar. My father’s face had been replaced with a large hole.
For some reason, this made me mad. My father and I got along alright but had never really gelled. Jessica had always been his favorite and I suppose this had something to do with it. I felt my face flush with anger at seeing his picture desecrated by a hired killer.
***
The house itself was average size, probably about two-thousand square feet that comprised of three bedrooms with two full-size bathrooms. Just off the kitchen was where Ronald spent most of his time. It wasn’t exactly a man cave, but he did have a wall full of rifles, handguns and shotguns. Back against the far wall was a desk that Ronald had fashioned into a loading bench. Next to the desk was a closet. Ronald showed me that this was the door leading to the safe house he had built. Once you opened the door, there was a set of ten steps that went down into a cement tunnel, complete with overhead lighting that went for at least a good two-hundred feet. At the end of this, there was a door he had installed that was closed using a vacuum system. If the pressure wasn’t adjusted, there was no way you could open it up. He showed me the switch that equalized the pressure on both sides, enabling the door to swing open on its own.
Once inside the safe house, he showed me the security system that would alert him to intruders from the outside. The safe house – or as I came to refer to it, “Their summer home” – was double the size of the main house. Ronald had carved out over four-thousand feet that served as the safe house. This was finished with reinforced steel and cement walls that were three feet thick. He had made part of it look like a duplicate copy of the main house, except that there was a walk-in freezer that would hold up to twenty slaughtered animals. It also had plenty of shelving space for groceries that would need to be kept frozen, I saw things like pizza, bread, frozen juice, and bags of flour all lined up on those shelves.
Next door to the freezer was a pantry that was easily twice as big. This too, was stacked from floor to ceiling with food. I asked him if he was expecting a nuclear war, he just shrugged and walked away.
Instead of three bedrooms, there were six, with the same number of bathrooms. The walls had been plastered over with drywall, which had been painted the same earthy brown as the main house. The floor had also been covered with faux hardwood. The living room had a big screen TV that had its own satellite feed. I saw speakers mounted on the walls as well. All in all, if I had to live out Armageddon, this would be a comfortable place to be.
Lastly, Ronald showed me the exit to the surface and how to trigger the door. It was the same type of set-up as the door leading to the main house. I looked around and saw the vents in the ceiling and on the wall, and knew that these controlled the pressure from both sides. When we were leaving, I noticed a gauge next to the door and asked Ronald what it was for.
“Lets you know the pressure on the other side of the door, so if the automated system is broken, you can manually dial it in.”
“Nice feature. Didn’t know murder paid so well. I guess I’ve been in the wrong business all these years.”
He grunted and kept moving.
We both spent time looking over the area where the shooter had fired from and made our way out to the car he had driven which, as it turned out, was three miles over rolling adobe dirt. The car was a rental out of Billings, Montana and the rental agreement listed the driver as one Carl Reiner. Other than fast food wrappers and pee bottles, there was nothing else to go on. After we were done looking over the car and the rocks north of his home, Ronald and I returned to his house and had lunch.
When I asked Ronald to show me the body, he got a little evasive on the subject. “First rule of any homicide is to look at the body,” I said to him.
He then showed me pictures of the dead man.
“These are really swell, Ronald. I love what you did with the lighting, it really makes his gray skin pop. When did you take up photography?”
He shrugged and didn’t respond.
“So, you said he was in your safe house but I don’t recall seeing a dead body lying about, so where is it?”
“I, ah, got rid of it like you told me to.”
“Ronald, I told you that you were stupid for keeping it, not to get rid of it.”
“Well, last night I loaded him up and got rid of him.”
“Last night…? When last night?”
“Around three.”
“Ronald, I haven’t investigated a homicide in a long time and I may be rusty, but the one thing I do remember is that you always look at the body!”
“Yeah, well I thought about it and decided you were right. Also, I couldn’t sleep anyway. So I got up, took his picture, rolled out his prints and made dental impressions. I got hair and blood too.”
I felt my temples start to throb and I pinched the bridge of my nose to ward off the headache I felt coming on. “Do I even want to know how it is you just happen to have the equipment to roll prints and take dental impressions? Not to mention hair and blood samples.”
“There have been times in the past when my employers have wanted a POD.”
“Just out of curiosity, what does POD stand for?”
“Proof of death,” he said casually.
“Ronald, I don’t even know where to begin.”
He then reached into a pocket of his cargo pants and pulled out pictures, fingerprint cards and a dental impression of both the upper and lower jaws. “Here, look these over. I left the hair and the blood in the freezer.”
I shook my head and took them from him. “You recognize him?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like we have meetings or conventions.”
“No, I guess not. Still, nothing stands out with him? No tattoos or scars? Anything you might have heard about that gives us an idea who he is?”
“Nostrils were inflamed from what looked like a nice casual coke habit. But other than that, nothing.”
“Ronald, I get the impression you’re holding back something.”
“Can’t help how you feel.”
“Alright, so we know what? The car was picked up in Billings, so that means he drove it here and I doubt he did it on a tank of gas. So, where are the receipts?”
“A job like this, he would have carried cash. ID is a fake. The car was probably rented by whoever put the job together. Probably either drove in and switched cars or he flew in and picked it up.”
“I take it we are going from experience here?”
“Yeah Walt, we are. And stop looking at me like that… I used to do this kind of work, but not anymore. I told you that.”
“Fine then. What else?”
“I don’t follow.”
“If you were hired, what else would we be looking for?”
He looked at me for a long time and then shook his head. “His exit would have been preplanned. Probably would have driven to another airport, two or three hund
red miles away. If he was successful and if the client wanted proof of death, he would have taken pictures at the very least. But I didn’t even find a cell phone much less a camera, so probably he was counting on the news to make the notification for him.”
“What about the guy who hired him?”
“Lots of guys act as middlemen to insulate the client from any backlash if it goes south.”
“Yeah, but Ronald, you said there were only a few people who had the knowledge and the resources to hire this out, so who are they?”
“Well, there’s a guy out of New York I used to use who could do it. There’s another down in New Mexico. The third guy’s location is a mystery but he could still do it, I suppose.”
“So, any of these guys have a grudge or a reason to take you out?”
“I thought about it for a long time and any one of them would do it for the right price. But I doubt they would.”
“Well, somebody did. Do you know how to make contact with these guys?”
“Best way is the message boards.”
“What message boards?”
“On the web, there are a couple of sites that have back doors for people to make contact. I haven’t seen anything recently though.”
“Wait, you’re still in contact with these guys? What happened to being legit? And before I get sidetracked again, what did you do with the body?”
“No… I’m not in contact with anybody. I use them simply as a way to keep an eye on things, and for our safety I troll them every couple of days to see if anything pops out that I should be concerned about.”
“And…”
“Better you don’t know.”
“No, I suppose you’re right.”
I look at the pictures again. The shooter was in decent shape and like Ronald said, he didn’t have any markings that seemed remarkable. He had black hair and a face as forgettable as a blade of grass.
“What about his clothes and guns?”
“Clothes were typical second-hand military garb. Nothing in the pockets except ammo. He did have a custom gun belt but I don’t recognize the craftsmanship. Guns were clean but well kept. Hard to say if they were his or if they were provided. I would guess they were his since he had the custom rig, but they were run-of-the-mill stuff that any legitimate resource manager would carry for a job like this.”
I rolled my eyes when he said ‘resource manager’ but I didn’t comment. I thought about what he had said and kept coming back to the middlemen who farmed out the work. We were going to have to make contact with each of them and see where that led us.
“Ronald, if you had to list these three guys in order, who would you start with?”
“Probably the guy down in New Mexico.”
“Why him?”
“Well, out of the three of them, he’s got the best reason to take on a client who would want me deleted and he probably has the best list of guys who would do the job.”
“Okay, so how do you make contact?”
“I’ll send up a flare and see who responds. After that, we’ll have a better idea. But right now we need to head to town for a few things.”
“Like what? We got food yesterday and even if we didn’t, you have enough in your summer home to feed an army of Mormons.”
“Well, you need to get some new clothes. I need to stop by Grand Valley Home Repairs and there is, ah, one other stop we need to make.”
“That reminds me, thanks for the loan. When I get back to Florida, I’ll set something up to pay you back.”
“Wasn’t really a loan… well, I mean it was at the time, but since you’ve taken to playing detective so well, let’s call it payment for services.”
“Ronald…” I started to say.
“Don’t, Walt. I have enough for a couple of lifetimes and it’s not a big deal. We’re family, after all, and that’s what families do, help each other.”
For the second time that day I was humbled. There was a cadre of killers out there looking to kill him, and all he was concerned about was my well-being. “Please just let me pay you back.”
“You may not be so willing after this afternoon.”
“Ronald, I really am not up to more surprises right now.”
“Relax, it’s not that bad. We just have to make another stop after you get done outfitting yourself and I get some tools.”
“Where are we going after the tools and clothes?”
“Well, you see, the other day I just happened to run into Marcie and I may have mentioned you were going to be staying with us for a few days, and she seemed rather happy at the thought of seeing you.”
“For the love of god, why would you set me up on a date now?”
“Well, if it works out, maybe you could casually mention this car. Also, if the opportunity arises, maybe you could give her the prints I took to see if anything pops.”
“Thaaaat’s illeeeegaaaal, Ronnnnald! She can’t run prints just because I ask her to. She has to have a case and a reason to do it. Besides, how am I going to explain that you have his prints but not the body that goes with them? Hmm?”
“Huh, didn’t think of that,” Ronald said. “Well, you’re suave. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
“Jesus, you're insane, you know that? This is a horrible idea. In fact, you know what, how about after the tools and clothes, you go and be Romeo if you want to see a cop that bad.”
“Come on, aren’t you the least bit curious about what she looks like? How she is? If she’s still single…? You know, the important stuff. Also, just maybe, you could get laid.”
My jaw again was slack. I had no response. “There’s someone out there who paid a guy to see you dead and all you’re concerned about is my ashes getting hauled?”
“Yeah, but not today,” he said, smiling.
I stared at him in disbelief. I started to shake my head back and forth like a dog with a bone. “Nope, not going to do it.”
“Well, no sense in arguing about it. What’s done is done.”
“What does that mean?” I asked him.
“Means she is expecting us around three, it’s when she takes her lunch. Relax, it’s just tacos,” he smiled.
Chapter 17
The first stop was the mall, where for the first time I didn’t hesitate or cringe when the salesclerk ran my card. All in all, I did pretty well: five new shirts, three pairs of jeans, a package of socks and underwear, and a new pair of work boots. Plus, and this to me was the most important, a new coat and gloves! The tab came to a little over five-hundred dollars. After that, we went down the street to a barber where I got a haircut and a shave. When we were through with my makeover, I felt better about myself than I had in a long time.
I wore one of the new shirts and jeans out of the store. It was a button-down work shirt that was solid blue in color. My new boots were a shiny black. The best part here was the lack of organic air-conditioning my converse shoes had. The coat was one of those shiny slick outdoorsy colorful numbers that all the skiers on TV wear. After the haircut and shave, the barber had insisted on showing me how I looked. The face staring back at me was a stranger. The hair along my temples was littered with a lot of gray, but up top it was still full and the same shit-colored brown it had always been. My eyes were recessed and the evidence of my drinking was starting to show on my nose and cheeks. It had been a couple of days since I’d had any booze, but the years of abuse could be seen if you knew what to look for. I also had more wrinkles at the corners of my eyes and in the creases between my nose and mouth. I didn’t think I looked that bad, but the eyes looking back at me were hollow and devoid of a happy life.
“You okay with how it turned out?” the barber asked me.
“Yeah, yeah, it's fine. Thanks,” I said sheepishly.
Ronald had been sitting in a chair, reading the same paper from this morning. When I stood up and went to pay, he stood up and went outside. After I had settled up, I followed him.
“My, you do clean up well,” he sai
d.
“Keep it in your pants, Romeo; I’m not your type.”
We both walked to his truck and got in. Ronald started it up and drove down the street to a store that specialized in home improvements. Checking my watch and seeing it was a little after 2:00 p.m., I decided not to say anything to him about running late for tacos.
Ronald parked the truck and we both walked inside.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
“I’m in need of a staple gun and a nail gun,” he responded absently.
“Why do you need those? Building something?”
“Oh, you know, there’s always something that needs to be stapled or nailed down in a house.”
His tone was breezy and his speech was laconic. I looked over at him and wondered what he was really up to. I mean, I noticed he had done a lot of his own work around the house, but I didn’t see anything that looked like it was in need of repair.
We continued on and after a few minutes, we found what he was looking for. The staple gun was one of those commercial jobs that could put big staples into walls. I had seen them used with drywall and rough construction. He then grabbed a few boxes of staples and tossed them into the cart. The nail gun was a pneumatic roofing gun. He also picked up a thirty-foot hose.
“You have a compressor for that bad boy?” I asked.
“Yep, I do.”
After that, he headed to the checkout, paid the tab and wandered outside. I just kept following him like a lost puppy. I checked my watch again and saw that we had a full thirty minutes. Fantastic… wouldn’t want to be late, would we?
On The Devil's Side of Heaven Page 10