Foolish Undertaking: A Buryin' Barry Mystery (Buryin' Barry Series Book 3)

by Mark de Castrique

  I’d had the foresight to leave an extra key under the mat and to tell Tommy Lee to make himself at home. I stepped into the rain and smelled the welcome aroma of wood smoke.

  Talbert followed me to the door. “Someone’s got a fire going.”

  “And I hope a pot of hot coffee.” I turned the knob and took a deep breath. Were we about to face a constructive conversation or a confrontation?

  Inside, Senator Millen had one foot resting on the stone hearth and prodded the burning logs with the poker. General Weathers sat on the sofa with Democrat nestled against his lower leg. The lab’s tail beat a steady rhythm on the wide planked floor as Weathers ran his broad hand through the thick fur on the dog’s neck.

  Kevin Malone carried a coffee mug from the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. He raised the cup to Talbert and me as we stepped across the threshold. “Well, look what the cat drug in.”

  “Hello, Kevin,” Talbert said. He looked at the other two men and smiled. “Ryan. Stormy. Good to see you.”

  Weathers got to his feet and offered his hand. Millen replaced the poker in the rack and did the same. Kevin kept both hands wrapped around his mug.

  “You guys don’t look any worse for wear,” Talbert said. “Especially you, Stormy. Hell of a job you’re doing over there.”

  “Maybe.” Weathers scowled at Millen. “If the job didn’t keep changing.”

  “You’re training the Iraqis to police themselves, right?” Talbert looked to Millen for confirmation.

  Millen laid a hand on Weathers’ shoulder. “I think Stormy would trade a hundred Iraqis for one Y’Grok Eban.”

  “Damn straight. Or any Montagnard. Best allies we ever had.”

  Kevin lifted his cup higher. “I’ll drink to that.”

  Tommy Lee emerged from the kitchen. “There’s more coffee if either of you wants a cup.” He approached Talbert. “I’m Tommy Lee Wadkins, sheriff of this bucolic community.”

  “My pleasure, Sheriff. And I understand you’re a vet.”

  General Weathers gave Tommy Lee a pat on the back. “Nothing less than a silver star.”

  Kevin pulled a chair from the dining table, turned it around to face us and sat down. “Watch out, Tommy Lee. Franklin will steal your life story and put his own face on the silver screen.”

  “And then maybe the public would appreciate the sacrifice he and Y’Grok Eban made.” Talbert glared at Kevin. “I don’t see you doing anything to help the Yards.”

  “I don’t need my face out in front leading the parade.”

  “And who the hell would follow you?”

  Kevin smiled and took a sip of coffee. “You might be surprised.”

  The fire popped, shooting an ember onto the floor. I grabbed a small shovel from the hearth, tossed the glowing coal back on the logs and replaced the screen.

  “Sorry,” Millen said. “I shouldn’t have left the screen open.”

  I pointed to the char marks littering the floor at my feet. “Simply adds to the authenticity of the old wood.” I glanced at the front door. “Anybody else coming?”

  Millen sat down on the sofa. “Nickles is drafting some notes from an informal conversation Stormy and I had this afternoon in preparation for the hearing.”

  “And Captain Randall’s summarizing the day’s dispatches from Baghdad.” Weathers took the rocker to my right, leaving Talbert to share the sofa with Millen.

  All three men cut commanding figures. Weathers wore his dress uniform, Millen sported a crisp blue suit, and Talbert’s tailored cashmere jacket shouted casual, but expensive elegance. Tommy Lee sat beside me on the hearth and Democrat curled up on the spiral braided rug as the centerpiece of our council.

  “How about Y’Suom?” I asked.

  “He’s at the VFW,” Tommy Lee said. “The mayor will send a car for him and the Lutherans.”

  “Then why don’t we get started. I assume everyone’s going straight to the party from here.”

  They all nodded in agreement.

  “On the drive over, I covered Franklin on the theft of the body and the tattoos that might tie in with the letter Y’Grok sent Kevin.”

  Kevin didn’t wait to be questioned. “The letter came last week to my house.”

  He’d told me the district but this new explanation was in case someone other than me knew he’d been suspended.

  “And the note just said Raven’s come home?” Talbert asked.

  “No, a little more. He said he’d seen Tommy Lee. Y’Grok knew he was dying and he had something to show me. He closed with Raven’s come home, come see.”

  “Raven’s come home,” Talbert muttered. “What’s left to come home?”

  “We think it might be the money,” Weathers said.

  “The money?” Talbert leaned forward and laughed. “After more than thirty years? I made most of the drops myself, starting with Y’Grok. That money’s probably crossed so many palms by now you can see through it.”

  “But what if it hasn’t,” Millen said. “Franklin, you know most of the Yards weren’t helping us for money. What if the resistance leaders used it sparingly if at all? Y’Grok Eban’s just noble enough to make the effort to return it.”

  “Maybe.” Talbert seemed to warm to the idea. “He’d at least want to see that the money helped his people.” He looked at Kevin. “You do have a parade, don’t you?”

  “Memorizing those corny scripts has helped your brain,” Kevin said. “Y’Grok knew he could trust me to get the money where it would do their cause the most good. What’s that say about you?”

  “Not a damn thing,” Talbert snapped. “Just like it doesn’t say anything about Ryan or Stormy. Some of us are harder to reach, that’s all. How many layers do you think you have to go through to connect with a general or a senator?”

  “Stay focused,” Weathers demanded. “Kevin got the letter. Why isn’t the issue. But he can’t decipher the code. None of us can.”

  Millen reached into his inside coat pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper. “Here’s what we have to go on. Barry’s uncle noticed the tattoos at the funeral home.”

  Talbert took the sheet and spread the paper out on his thighs. He studied it for a few minutes while the rest of us sat in silence.

  “I see the letters for Raven. But the circle. Does it mean things have come full circle?”

  “Maybe,” Kevin said. “In the abstract. What could a circle mean as a marker?”

  “A village,” Talbert suggested. “We used to draw circles to represent villages. They were always moving.”

  “But we’re halfway around the world,” Weathers said.

  “Which means that whoever stole the body could be halfway around the world by now.” Talbert held the paper closer to his eyes. “This number two thousand. That’s got to be the key.”

  I spoke up. “Kevin and I went out to the place where Y’Grok died. We used two thousand as feet and yards and the circle as a compass, but we found nothing.”

  Talbert turned the paper around and held it up like a courtroom exhibit for the jury. “What if two thousand is a year?”

  “Y’Grok was still in Vietnam,” Kevin said.

  “Exactly,” Talbert replied. “He’s written Viet and Nam backwards. Back to Vietnam. Where was his village in 2000? Their slash and burn farming techniques would hold them for a year or two before they moved on. I think he’s telling us to find the site of his home village in 2000.”

  “No,” I said. “That’s not it.”

  The others looked at me with hope I’d discovered the answer.

  “Going back to Vietnam doesn’t explain the missing ammo case.”

  “What ammo case?” Talbert asked.

  I explained how Harvey Collins had seen the ammo case at the mill and that Y’Grok placed special significance on it.

  “I could get some men and some metal detectors,” Tommy Lee said. “We can organize a more efficient search when the weather clears.”

  “No.” Kev
in and Talbert spoke in unison.

  Kevin cut his eyes toward Talbert. “You tell him.”

  For the first time, Talbert gave Kevin a smile. “Sheriff, if Y’Grok wanted this money to go to the resistance, how do we dig it up in the presence of witnesses and keep control of it?” He looked at Weathers and then Millen. “Am I right to assume we don’t want any part of this money? Isn’t that really why you’re here without the usual entourage? Deniability, gentlemen. We know nothing. I’m willing to let Kevin complete Y’Grok’s mission. Are you?”

  No one answered. No one had to.

  Weathers looked at his watch. “We don’t have much time and we’re not going to recover the body tonight. How do we handle tomorrow?”

  “I’ll go public tomorrow,” I said. “I can say the body was stolen, but at the request of Y’Grok’s son we kept the theft quiet.”

  Tommy Lee nodded. “That should be enough. Turn any other questions over to me as head of the investigation. I’ve no need to get into the tattoos or Raven. I suggest the rest of you refrain from comment on the grounds that you’re here to pay your respects, not second guess a police investigation.”

  “The heat will really be on then.” Millen shook his head. “When the networks and larger papers get wind of this bizarre twist.”

  “And you’ll be gone,” Talbert said.

  Weathers got to his feet. “Tommy Lee, you’ll keep us posted, unofficially.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Then I recommend we end this discussion and drop by the party and butter up your mayor. Tomorrow he’s going to get more attention than he bargained for.”

  We all rose and prepared to leave. While Millen and Weathers donned their raincoats, I walked to the door and flipped on the outside floodlight. Rain fell in a steady stream.

  Tommy Lee spoke to Millen. “Ryan, since Kevin and Franklin don’t have cars, would you mind giving them a ride? I still want to go over a few things with Barry about tomorrow.”

  Talbert frowned at me. “You’re coming, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, and I can give you a lift to the condo.”

  The joy of not being left to the mercy of the mayor and Archie radiated from his face. “Then lead on, Senator Millen. I put myself in your competent hands.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re a constituent from Idaho.” Millen stepped out on the front porch followed by Talbert, Weathers, and Kevin.

  Talbert paused to open my umbrella and share it with Kevin.

  A rifle cracked and the umbrella flew into the air. Wood splinters exploded from a log inches above my head.

  “Down,” Tommy Lee cried. “Get down.”

  The four of us dropped like stones. Tommy Lee jumped across the open doorway and swatted the light switch. The front of the cabin went dark.

  “Get out of the spill light,” Weathers ordered.

  I heard bodies rolling into the shadows, and then footsteps running through the brush up the hill.

  “He’s getting away,” Weathers yelled.

  Democrat’s tail brushed against me. Whatever game we were playing caught his fancy. He heard the steps move onto the gravel and run up the driveway. With a bark of enthusiasm, the dog leapt in pursuit.

  “Democrat, no!”

  I’ll never know whether he reacted to my command or some warning scent. He stopped about twenty yards up the hill, his bark reduced to a whimper.

  Stormy Weathers went into full command mode. “Barry! What weapons have you got?”

  “A twelve-gauge, a twenty-two, and a thirty-eight revolver.”

  “Get them. And kill all the lights inside.”

  I sprinted to my bedroom closet. You don’t question a three-star general.

  I was back on the porch in less than thirty seconds. Tommy Lee had given Kevin a pump twelve from his patrol car. I gave Stormy Weathers the shotgun and Talbert the twenty-two. I kept the five-shot Smith & Wesson. Millen said it’d been so long since he’d fired a gun, he’d be a liability.

  “I can hold a flashlight,” he volunteered.

  No one doubted his bravery. A flashlight made the best target.

  “Spread out,” Weathers ordered. “Ryan, stay in the middle since you’re unarmed. None of us should lose sight of the man to either side. There might be more than one shooter and I don’t want us killing each other in a crossfire. Now take it slow.”

  We started forward. Up the hill, a car engine roared to life followed by the squeal of tires as a vehicle lurched from gravel to the blacktop. In a few seconds, the sound vanished into the wind and rain.

  Weathers called from off to my left. “That was probably him. But keep alert. We’ll sweep the area to the highway.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we returned to the porch. Our would-be assassin had left no trail. All we found was a piece of a small branch that might have been clipped by the shot.

  Kevin held the branch between his fingers. “This could have deflected the bullet just enough to miss.”

  “What do you think the shooter fired?” Millen asked.

  “Sounded like a thirty-aught-six,” Tommy Lee said. “Most common deer rifle around.”

  Millen’s wayward eye sparkled in the backwash of his flashlight. “You’re saying this guy’s a local?”

  “I’m saying he fired a thirty-aught-six, but we won’t know for sure till we dig the slug out of the side of Barry’s cabin.”

  Weathers took the severed branch from Kevin and twirled it between his fingers. “Might not be a deer rifle. The M1 Garand fires a thirty-aught-six.”

  “Military,” Tommy Lee said. “But not active issue for years.”

  “Oh, there’re plenty to be had,” Kevin said. “But that’s not the important question, is it, pal?”

  “No. The important question is who was the target?” Tommy Lee turned to me. “And the person he came closest to hitting was you, Barry. Pissed anybody off at a funeral lately?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  While Tommy Lee and I dug the slug out of my cabin wall, the others tried to regain a presentable appearance. Rolling around on the porch and driveway under fire had created an unusual fashion statement. Towels and a hairdryer would fix most of the damage, although General Weathers had gouged his spit-polished shoes and Ryan Millen’s solid red tie now featured a permanent water-splotched pattern. I lent Millen a blue replacement from my closet and dug up a bottle of KIWI Scuff Magic for Weathers. Kevin and Talbert had fared better since they were still on the porch when the shot was fired.

  The bullet had smashed through the stem of the umbrella before burrowing into the log. I held a flashlight with the beam tightly focused across the entry hole. Tommy Lee dug into the wood with a buck knife while Talbert and Kevin stood watch. We took seriously the possibility that our shooter could return.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to call this in?” I whispered.

  Tommy Lee kept digging. “Why? So Reece can type up a report for me to read in the morning? Neither Millen nor Weathers wants to turn tonight into a circus. That’s all that would happen. With the high profile of the possible target, we’d be smothered with press. I’ll get some men up here at daylight to look for clues. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a shell casing with prints.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I do too. That’s why we’ll keep this quiet for now.”

  “Somebody must have tailed Millen’s car.” I moved the light more head on. A tip of twisted metal gleamed in the wood.

  “Or followed my car from town, or your jeep from Crystal Cascades.”

  “Maybe the shooter knew we were meeting here.”

  Tommy Lee stopped digging. “That’s what I’m finding out. I used my cell phone to call the department when everyone went back inside.”

  “So you did report the shooting.”

  “No. I asked Reece and Wakefield to check on a few people’s whereabouts. See if they’d suddenly gone missing.”

  “Who?”

  We heard the creak of a porch board as
Kevin walked closer.

  Tommy Lee changed the subject. “You have some needle-nose pliers, Barry? I’m ready to pull this sucker out.”

  A few minutes later, we stood in a circle in front of the fireplace, passing the mangled slug around.

  “It’s the right size for a thirty-aught-six,” Weathers said. “It’s a thirty caliber for sure.”

  “I wonder how long he’d been waiting out there,” Millen said. “He must have known we’d be leaving soon.”

  Franklin Talbert tossed the bullet up and down in one hand. “And we were all in the light when he fired. So, who was he after?”

  Tommy Lee snatched the slug out of mid-air. “Since we don’t know, I advise each of you to consider yourself the target. I’ve assigned extra deputies at the country club. Make sure you walk in with one.” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “And let’s change our ride plans. Kevin, you drive the rental car and Barry can go in his jeep. I’ll lead the way with the rest of you. Maybe our shooter will think twice before firing at a sheriff.”

  I brought up the rear of our little convoy. Tommy Lee turned on his blue flashers, but kept his speed under the limit so Kevin and I had no trouble keeping up. At the main gate to the club, Tommy Lee stopped to exchange a few words with one of his deputies. The officer stood beside his own car and the blue flashing lights of the two vehicles projected a pulsing psychedelic display over his yellow slicker. Evidently, the deputy was noting down everyone who entered.

  The Gainesboro Country Club had been constructed about fifty years ago on the outskirts of town, and its land lay along a narrow valley which once contained a rich deposit of clay. Much of Gainesboro had grown out of that natural resource because, in 1919, dirt-poor Roland Foster began making bricks out of his backyard. His feat of clay made him dirt-rich as the town expanded and the Roland Foster Brick Company flourished. But the excavation left an unsightly blemish of scarred earth in its wake. When the clay petered out and Roland Foster’s heirs found other sources for their bricks, the town petitioned the company to do something about the environmental eyesore. One of the grandsons suggested a golf course, and the Midas touch that changed clay into gold transformed eroded gulleys into playable greens.