“I hope you’re hearing me on this, I really do. We know you lied to us about why you went down there and besides that, your replacement is probably going to cost one of us our shiny new roadsters we just paid off.”
“Lied to you? What did they say, Karen?”
“You really want me to go into the details about what they suspect Ronald of? Or how about how you’re wrapped up like a corn dog with Ronald?”
“Karen… that’s… no, wait… let me explain… it’s not really as bad as it sounds…”
“NO, DON’T!! NOT NOW, WALTER!!! You utter one more lie and I swear I’ll hang up this phone and dump what you asked for in the toilet!” Bill screamed at me.
Great, my ace in the hole had just shit all over me. What was worse was they might have been the last two real friends I had left. I blew out my breath. “Bill, Karen, what I told you was for your own good. Trust me on this, you don’t want to be anywhere near this. Give me what you’ve got and you won’t have to worry about cutting ties. I’ll do it myself. Deal?”
The silence on the line told me they were talking it over. Normally I knew I just had to wait Karen out because Bill would work on her until she finally caved. Now, I wasn’t so sure. Several beats went by without a word from either of them. I was about to say something when I heard the mute being taken off.
“Walt, that works for us. Sorry it’s come to this, but after all that’s happened, we can’t afford to take any risks. You understand, I’m sure,” Bill said dejectedly.
I was a little confused about the ‘all that’s happened’ part, but I decided to let it go. “Don’t blame you a bit, Bill.”
“You want it over the phone or in an email?” Karen asked me.
Rickets! All I was going to get was a dump without the benefit of any input from them. It was the worst case scenario when it comes to getting information. Generally, I would have preferred to get some insight or feedback on what they were giving me, but I was afraid if I pushed it even a little, Karen would just hit the delete button.
“Sure how about…” my voice trailed off. Ah fuck it! “Hey Karen, how about you tell it to me and then send it over the wire.”
“That’s not what…” she started to say, but Bill cut her off. “Last time Walt, after this you’re on your own.”
“Thank you, Bill! Appreciate it.”
“Okay, here it is. The guy you asked about has some definite color in his past and with some heartache too.”
“How so?”
“You can read about it when I send it to you,” Karen scoffed.
“Hey Karen, let it go a little will you? This is the last time,” I heard Bill say in the background.
“Fine! Fritz Washington was born in the early forties, married his high school sweetheart in ’65. They had a son named Tyler, who was born about seven months later. Then in ’92, Tyler was the victim of some kind of accident on an oil rig. The kid never got over it and ended it gallows style in 2000. According to the file, the wife is no stranger to pills or depression and after the kid takes himself out, she departs this mortal coil about a year after the son. But all of that is just background.
Here’s where the color starts to appear. Your boy Fritz started out as a Junior Well Analyst and then about the time his old lady takes a powder he discovers Jesus and starts attending church on a real regular basis,” Karen said.
“And the church is colorful?” I stupidly asked her.
“You want this or not? ‘Cos I can just as easily put it in the mail and let the letter carriers of the U.S. Postal Service deliver it.”
“Sorry, won’t happen again.”
“So, right, after she dies and he starts attending church, his boss is killed in a hit and run.”
“This guy killed his boss? Cops talk to him?”
“No, he was in Cleveland when it happened. So no, I doubt they talked to him. Check this out though… Fritz got his boss's job and then two years later, his new boss is found with a bullet to the side of the head. Cops ruled it a suicide and he was promoted again.”
“So how many more times was he the recipient of a promotion because of an untimely demise?”
“Just those two times, but that’s all he needed to have a shot at the top spot.”
“So maybe he paid to off two of his bosses for a promotion? Seems just a little out there for what I’m looking for.”
“There’s more. After Fritz got the top spot he began targeting markets where the oil had been played out. Common Core was one of the first to start in on the whole fracking thing. In the past, he had always kept the headquarters in Houston. Then last year, out of nowhere, he announces their HQ will be moved to Western Colorado.”
“Sorry, but I don’t see the connection here.”
“That’s because we haven’t told you the best parts yet.”
I’m standing in front of Valley Market, looking out over the parking lot while I’m talking. My eyes are just casually raking the parking lot. I’m not looking for anything in particular, just passing the time while we talk. The car from earlier doesn’t seem to be here, but the lot’s full and to be honest, my attention isn’t really on the parking lot at the moment. “Well, don’t keep me waiting?”
“There’s another player we ran across that is a bit darker than your boy Fritz. His head of security is an ex-mercenary named Pete Silas, who did time in a lot of places where oil was the largest commodity. From what we found, he started at CCO about the same time as Fritz and his rise to the head of corporate security mirrors that of Fritz’s. Every time Fritz got a bump, looks like Silas got his shortly thereafter.”
“Okay, so what’s all this have to do with Ronald and me?”
“CCO had a team of speculators in the area about a year ago, when a feel-good story about Ronald ran in the paper.”
“You ran a check here in the Grand Valley?”
“It was before you were a lying shitbag,” Karen fumed through the phone.
“Sorry. So what about it?”
“In the piece they ran about Ronald, they covered his time as a roughneck,” Bill said.
“Yeah, I remember that. What about it?”
“He was on an oil rig out in the gulf in ’92, named the Sundance…” Karen’s words drifted off.
“Sorry, still not seeing the connection.”
“Fritz’s son Tyler was also on the Sundance,” Bill said.
“Shit. What was the accident he had?”
“That’s the thing, it wasn’t an accident.”
“Then what was it?”
“Attempted homicide…” Karen’s words trailed away. “Somebody tied him up in chains and then threw him over the side. Police said it was premeditated because the chain was rigged before he went over the side.”
“Over the side? What’d ya mean over the side?” I asked.
“It’s a little sketchy, but from what we could gather, someone tied him up in chains and then tied one end off before throwing him overboard. I guess he just bobbed in the air like a cork for hours before he was found.”
I was beginning to see the pattern form and knew who had to be behind it all. “How soon after the story ran did Fritz move his HQ to Grand Junction?”
“The next day,” Karen said.
“Shit Karen, how solid is this? I mean, is it good enough I can take it to the cops? Maybe even get them to make a case?”
“You could probably take it to them, but it’s all speculation. Besides that, he’s clean on the two murders we were able to tie him to.”
“What about the security guy. How clean is he?”
“Never even got a parking ticket as far as we can tell.”
“Okay. Thanks guys, it means a lot, it really does,” I said.
Now I was moving toward my car. I needed to get on the road and track down Ronald; see if we could put an end to the bloodshed. We could possibly even see about putting my new badge to good use. At least that’s what I was thinking as I headed to my car.
“
By the way, when this is over, I swear I’ll make things right,” I said as I started to put my key in the lock of the jeep. My key missed the lock and as I was bending down to get a better view of the door lock, the driver-side window exploded.
I dropped the phone and the keys as I allowed my body to go flat onto the pavement. I caught myself on my hands and then pushed myself under the jeep. My ears caught the sound of a car moving away, but I never saw the shooter or the car he was in. I wondered if it was the same guy from before and then cursed myself for being so careless when I was walking about.
Pushing myself all the way to the passenger’s side of the car, I started to get up slowly. My eyes roved all over the parking lot, looking for the car that had just sped away or any sign of someone who may have seen the shooter. Nobody seemed to have noticed a thing. Mothers and couples walked back and forth between the parking lot and the store.
I turned all the way around, looking for a suspect. Nothing out of the ordinary until I saw a blue Ford Tarsus turning right onto 6&50. The car was too far away for me to make out a plate or the driver, but I was hopeful the store had cameras that might have recorded something.
Getting on my hands and knees, I retrieved my new cell phone and keys. The face of the phone was cracked and when I tried to use it the screen failed to light up. It did make the same beeps and whistles it had made when I bought it though.
I was heading towards the store for some answers and a new phone when I stopped and turned around and went back to the car. I opened the rear hatch and pulled out the ammo box. Then I went around to the front seat and opened the paper bag that held the gun Paul had given me. Pulling both the gun and the clips out, I began feeding shells into the magazines one at a time. My eyes swept the parking lot after every second bullet until all three mags were loaded.
Then, like I had done a million times before when I was on the job, I pulled the slide back until it locked open and fed a round into the receiver. After that, I released the slide and watched as the gun bucked slightly in my hand when the slide of the automatic hit home. My thumb put the hammer down so I wouldn’t accidentally shoot myself or someone else. Then I slapped one of the magazines in the butt of the 9 mm.
The badge and the gun were no longer props. I felt the calling I had once felt years ago, before the booze and violence had taken over. This time I was going to do things right: apply the cuffs to the bad guys and let them ride the rap all the way to the needle for all I cared. What I wasn’t going to do was allow Ronald to circumvent the justice system like he had done with Chaney Shannon.
I stood up from the passenger side of the jeep and locked and closed the door. Next, I replaced the ammo box in the back of the vehicle and then turned and headed back into the store. My first stop was going to be security. After that, electronics to get a new phone, then I was going to have to find a real cop with handcuffs I could borrow.
Chapter 31
After Jenny had failed to hit the ex-cop, Sam had driven easily out of the parking lot and onto the freeway. Their orders were clear and it didn’t really matter if they were successful or not: They were to head straight to the safe house and watch the news to see if they had been made.
Sam’s eyes found Jenny’s in the rearview mirror. Her expression didn’t really convey she was in the mood to talk, but he tried anyway, “Could you tell if he was hit or not?”
“Really Sam, does it matter?” she replied angrily.
“Yeah Jenny, it matters and you know it does, so knock it off.”
She turned and gazed out of the rear passenger side window but didn’t answer him. Instead, she began tearing down the guns in the back seat so that if they had been made, at least the cops wouldn’t find the guns out in the open.
“I’m not sure. I had him lined up perfectly but at the last minute he moved. He went down, but well, maybe I winged him.”
Sam nodded at her in the rearview mirror and said, “Far as I could tell, we’re clean.”
“You think it’s worth turning back?”
“No, I don’t. Stick to the plan. We’ll watch the news to see what’s what. We should call it in. Let ‘em know what happened.”
She shook her head, “Not now. Besides, he’s off on his own adventure. Maybe later, after we’re sure we’re clear and we’ve seen the news.”
He nodded and kept driving.
***
I marched back to the front doors, where I was met by a geriatric greeter who didn’t look a day under a hundred and not a pound over a hundred either. I took the badge Paul had given me and flashed him. “Police business, take me back to security.”
“Jesus, you look terrible. You get your ass kicked?”
“Knock it off., I’m not in the mood.”
“Watch your mouth, sonny.”
“Come again?”
“That badge doesn’t give you the right to insult me.”
“Just take me back to security.”
“Sure got here fast.”
“I was in the parking lot for Christ sake.”
“That's where you got your ass handed to you?”
“One more crack and I’ll handcuff you to my bumper.”
“Your paps sure didn’t raise you right. Talking to your elders like that.”
I shook my head “I’m seriously not in the mood.”
Now it was his turn to shake his head at me. “Follow me, marshal.”
“It’s detective, not marshal, old-timer. I look like a Fed to you?”
“Looks like you got your ass kicked. Try not bleeding on the floor would you.”
I resisted the urge to pistol whip him and followed him back to security. Once we were there, he knocked on an unmarked door and then waved to a camera overhead. There was a buzz and then the door opened.
Once inside, I was met by an undercover security guard who had to tip the scales at around three-hundred. His unkempt long hair and sagging belly gave him the look of a homeless redneck, or maybe an ex-jock who had seen his best days behind him.
I extended my hand to him. “Detective Walker,” I said as a way of greeting.
“Jason Bolt.”
“Jason, in a few minutes this place is going to be crawling with cops so time isn’t something I have to waste.”
“For a shoplifter?”
“No, for the attempted murder of a police officer.”
“Who got killed?”
“Nobody got killed.”
“Then why are we going to be swamped with cops?”
“Attempted murder means someone tried to kill me.”
“Who tried to kill you?”
“I was hoping you could help me out with that.”
“What about this cretin?” he asked.
I looked over his shoulder and saw a teenage boy sitting glumly in a chair. His right hand was cuffed to a D-ring on the edge of a desk.
“What’d he do?” I ask.
“Shoplifting.”
“Not my problem. I just need you to check your surveillance cameras for the shooter.”
“So, you're not here about this kid?”
“No, I’m not. Did you hear me say someone tried to kill me in your parking lot?”
“Yeah, I heard you. But why would someone try to kill you? I mean, no offense, but you look like you got your ass kicked.”
I ran my hands over my face and tried to get my anger under control. “Have they taught you about obstructing justice in your criminology class yet?”
“How’d you know I was in a criminology class?”
“Cops know all and see all. Now Jason, please focus here. I need you to roll the tapes back to the last half hour. I was in the parking lot. Northwest corner. Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah, I can do that, but why the parking lot? He was in the store.”
“How do you know he was in the store?”
He turned and pointed to the teenage kid who was still handcuffed to the desk. “’Cos he’s sitting right there.”
“
JASON!” Focus! I’m looking for the person or persons in the parking lot who just took a shot at me. They got away so I need to at least try and get a plate. Can you do that for me?”
He hesitated and then said, “Yeah, I guess, but maybe I should call my supervisor first.”
“Call him after.”
“It’s a she.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“She. My boss. As in not a dick like you, you know, a woman.”
I blew out my breath “This is like watching earthworms fuck,” I muttered under my breath. “Call her after, OK?”
“I don’t know…”
“I could find her,” the greeter said.
“Would you, Andy?”
“Sure,” he replied.
I turned around and faced Andy “First, take my phone over to the geeks and have them set me up with a new one. Then you can find her.”
“Not really my job DETECTIVE and geeks are in a whole different store.”
“My bumper still has an open space, ANDY!” I growled.
“You know. I’ve had people banned from this store for a lot less.”
“Andy, one more fucking wise-ass crack and you’re gonna be riding an obstruction charge. You reading me on this?”
“Fine, give me the phone.”
I handed it to him. Andy took it and retreated out of the security room. When he was gone, I turned back to face Jason. “I need a phone.”
He pointed at his desk, “Right there.”
“In private, can you do that?”
“Yeah, it’s a cordless so you can take it out in the hall.”
“Thanks. And I’ll make sure someone takes care of your shoplifter.”
He nodded. “You still need me to look at the footage?”
“Please. Start about thirty to forty minutes ago. I came out the doors on the market side. Follow my movements out to my car, see if you can pull a plate and facials.”
He blew out his breath. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I nodded and then stepped out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind me.
Once I was alone, I punched in the number for the department in Fruita. When it was answered, I told the clerk who I was and asked to speak to Paul. I waited for a minute or two before he came on the line.
On The Devil's Side of Heaven Page 27