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

by Mark de Castrique

  Kevin ran his fingers through his curly hair. “What a bitch of a mess. Stormy Weathers couldn’t prove Talbert’s guilt so he arranged to take him out the old fashioned way.”

  “And Y’Suom must have said something to Talbert last night. Maybe Talbert thought Y’Suom fired the shot at him. I can’t see any reason Weathers would want Y’Suom killed.”

  “Neither can I, but if Stormy knows Talbert killed Y’Suom, he’s got to be so pissed he might order an air strike on that condo. Can’t say as I blame him.”

  “We’ve got to get to Tommy Lee. This is far more than circumstantial evidence.” I glanced at Susan’s TV tray. The rose lay with the stem snapped in half. I’d been right about Weathers’ guilt, but I wished I could take back my sharp words.

  “What the hell’s Tommy Lee going to do? Arrest a three-star general?” Kevin walked to the front window and stared into the dark. “And if Franklin did what we think he did, why save his ass?”

  I didn’t answer. Nothing I could say would make a difference. The rain beat against the window. While Tommy Lee kept his eye on Nickles and Millen, Weathers and Randall were on their way to settle an old score. And the projector cranked the final reel for action hero Franklin Talbert.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I reached for the phone. “I’ll try Tommy Lee’s cell first, but reception is so spotty in the mountains I might have to be patched through the department’s radio.”

  Kevin followed me to the kitchen. “I hope not. You’d have to speak in code. Too many people monitor police frequencies.”

  Fortunately, the Grove Park Inn made sure its guests wouldn’t be cut off from the pressures of the world they tried to escape. Cell phone coverage blanketed the resort including Tommy Lee’s stake-out car in the parking lot. He sounded like he was in the next room with Democrat and George.

  “It’s Weathers and Randall.” I shouted the accusation without saying hello.

  “What?”

  “I have proof. A Lieutenant Crawford in the morgue at Fort Jackson stored Y’Grok’s body for Weathers. Randall delivered the body and then picked it back up last night.”

  “Shit.”

  “They aren’t going to the mill. Their target’s Franklin Talbert. We think he killed James Raven. Y’Grok told Y’Suom and he told Randall. Kevin was insurance that the proof would be found.”

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Tommy Lee sounded like a broken rap record.

  “Shift your surveillance to Weathers and Randall.”

  “No good. Randall left ten minutes ago. Reece tailed him for a few miles, and then radioed me that he lost him in the rain. I alerted Wakefield up at the mill, but now you tell me Randall’s not going to the mill. I’ve got the wrong suspect and the wrong damn place staked out.”

  “Are you sure Weathers isn’t with him?”

  “Yes. I watched Randall walk out of the Grove Park and get in the SUV alone. He didn’t stop the vehicle at any other entrance before leaving.”

  Kevin stepped closer to me, sensing things were falling apart.

  “We’ve got to get word to Talbert,” I said.

  “He’ll bolt.”

  Kevin jumped in. “For God’s sake, what’s wrong?”

  “Randall’s given them the slip. He’s probably on his way to Talbert’s condo right now.”

  “Can we beat him?”

  “Yes.” I knew there were few options left. “Tommy Lee, Kevin and I can get to Talbert first unless you’ve got somebody closer.”

  “Shit.” Tommy Lee sounded like he really meant the word this time. “No, I don’t.”

  I didn’t press him for a decision.

  “Okay. You and Kevin go armed, but see if you can get Talbert in the car and away from there without pulling a gun. He doesn’t need to know he’s a suspect, just that we think he was the target last night and we want to keep him safe. Bring him back to your cabin.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Confront General Weathers. I’ll have a man with me. Maybe I’ll get Millen and Nickles there as well. The more witnesses the better and the less likely there’ll be a scene.” He paused, quickly making his plan. “Who was the guy at Fort Jackson?”

  “Lieutenant Crawford.”

  “I’ll phone Crawford from Weathers’ room and verify his story in front of everyone. When the general sees the score, maybe he’ll call off Randall. You’d better get going, and don’t do anything foolish. Call me when you’ve got Talbert.” He lowered his voice. “And watch Kevin. He’d probably like to kill Talbert with his bare hands.”

  We’d put about ten miles behind us when the rain slackened. I pushed the jeep faster, knowing my lead on Captain Randall would evaporate if he exceeded the speed limit along his stretch of the interstate. I took some comfort knowing my knowledge of the shortest route would buy us even more time. I estimated a margin of fifteen minutes.

  Kevin repeated the plan we’d discussed since leaving the cabin. His nerves must have been kicking in, and talking about the scheme made its success seem all the more possible.

  “I’m telling you, Franklin won’t trust me so you’re going to have to convince him.”

  “I know. We’ve been over that.” I didn’t like talking the plan to death because then I’d deliver my lines like the worst actor in one of Talbert’s movies. “I’ll emphasize the request came from Tommy Lee and the cabin offers better protection.”

  “Don’t be surprised if I disagree.”

  “What?”

  “Psychology.”

  I wanted to take my eyes off the road to see if he was kidding. “Are we playing good cop, bad cop?”

  “No. Good undertaker, bad Vietnam vet. Hell, I’ve got to say something. Yes, you’ve got to convince him, but if I’m too quiet, he’ll smell a rat for sure. I’ll say the stuff we don’t want him to do.”

  His logic carried a ring of truth. Score one for the Boston detective of the year. Then I remembered he’d also accidentally shot his partner. “All right. But we can’t get into a debate. We need to get out of there.”

  “Understand me, Barry. I only have one goal for this mission.”

  “Yeah, protect a man we can’t stomach.” I reached in my jacket pocket and felt the cool steel of my unholstered thirty-eight.

  Kevin smiled. “It’ll be hard enough to nail the bastard without letting him wrap himself in the cloak of victim.”

  When I was a police officer, I’d testified enough in court to see slick attorneys weave a story that buried the truth under a cloud of maybes. “First let’s get Talbert and keep Randall and Weathers from becoming killers. We’ll talk about the rest with Tommy Lee.”

  “Fair enough. Are we getting close?”

  I turned the jeep onto the last leg. Another mile on Cletus Owens road and we’d be at Crystal Cascades. “Just up ahead. Damn. I should’ve called the guardhouse. We could block Randall at the entrance.”

  “We can warn the guard not to let anybody through. I’m banking on Franklin being too scared to argue. He’ll want to leave if he’s in danger.” Kevin laughed. “Maybe he’d feel more secure at the jail than the cabin.”

  Spotlights illuminated bronze letters embedded in a rock wall. The three-dimensional words Crystal Cascades shimmered behind an artificial waterfall spilling over the stones. The sign and landscaping cost more than most mountaineers’ houses.

  Warmer air had moved into the valley, and as the rain diminished, mist rose from the soaked earth. The guardhouse appeared suspended over a wispy blanket of white. I pulled alongside, careful to steer wide of any hidden curb.

  Edith Delaney slid back her glass window. “Mr. Clayton, what brings you out on a night like this?”

  “We’re here to pick up Franklin Talbert.”

  She flipped through a few pages on her clipboard. “I don’t see your name. Is he expecting you?”

  “I was on the list. You checked me through yesterday.”

  “That was yesterday’s list.”

  �
�They just put me down for one day?” I turned to Kevin. “Mayor Whitlock screwed up and now Edith will get the blame.”

  “That’s not fair,” Kevin said.

  “What do you mean?” Edith’s forehead wrinkled, pulling her cap closer to her eyes.

  “I’ll have to call Mr. Talbert and tell him you won’t let us through. You and I know the screw-up is the mayor’s fault, but do you think he’s going to admit that?”

  “No,” Edith said. “He’ll cover his own fat ass.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself. No sense a big movie star like Franklin Talbert getting the wrong impression of you.”

  “Well, you did pick him up last night.” Edith made her decision and the crossing bar rose out of the ground fog.

  “Thanks.” I inched the jeep forward and then stopped. “Oh, Edith, you can do Mr. Talbert a big favor.”

  “Really?”

  “There’s a fan who’s been bothering him, not giving the poor man a moment’s peace. Showing up everywhere.”

  “I know the type.” She leaned out the guardhouse window, eager to please.

  “There’s a chance he might come here, try to see Mr. Talbert.”

  “He won’t get past me.”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t, but just tell him Mr. Talbert’s not here, even if we haven’t left yet.”

  “No problem. What’s he look like?”

  “About my age. Black hair. Drives a dark SUV.”

  Kevin spoke up. “Don’t forget he likes to make believe he’s a soldier.”

  Edith’s mouth dropped open. “I think he was here this morning.”

  “You saw him?” I asked.

  “Bert Metcalf had first shift. He told me a guy in a black SUV tried to get in to see Franklin Talbert. He didn’t say nothing about him being a soldier.”

  Randall probably would have been dressed in non-descript clothing—dark like my attacker’s in the funeral home. “What else did Bert say?”

  “That he told the man Talbert wasn’t in his condo. The mayor had already been by and found him gone.”

  So Talbert had been smart to stay at my cabin. My stomach tightened. Randall had been here before. He wouldn’t have to find his way.

  “Thanks, Edith. Remember, Talbert’s not here. That’s all you need to say. This man might be mentally unstable so don’t push him. If he threatens you, let him through. Then call the condo and the police.” I didn’t want an overzealous security guard on my conscience.

  Edith blinked. “You mean he’s crazy?”

  “No, I mean he’s determined. But, if he thinks Talbert’s gone, he should leave.”

  I drove on.

  “You played that about as well as you could,” Kevin said.

  “It didn’t buy us much. Randall won’t care that Talbert’s out. He’d rather lay in wait, and then pick him off when he comes back.” I noticed a grin on Kevin’s face.

  “You’d have made a good detective.” Then he turned toward the side window. “I just hope you’re a good driver.”

  The narrow road existed only in the beam of the headlights. We traveled up a tunnel of darkness, but this tunnel twisted and turned like a writhing copperhead. The developers of Crystal Cascades should have spent more on reflector-studded guardrails than fake waterfalls and polished bronze letters. I didn’t want to be the driver to literally cascade down the mountainside.

  “Should we check in with Tommy Lee?” Kevin asked.

  “We can’t. We’re in a dead zone. If we have to call, we’ll use the phone in the condo.”

  Although I’d picked up Talbert only yesterday, I might as well have been on a different planet. Nothing looked familiar. Mailboxes materialized at the edge of the road and then vanished. Kevin started calling out addresses.

  “Look for a black mailbox on a wrought-iron post.”

  “Great. Why not a white mailbox in a snowstorm?”

  From the number of switchbacks the jeep had negotiated, I figured we were getting near. I cut our speed to a crawl.

  “There it is.” Kevin leaned close to the dashboard. “Man, I can’t see a driveway.”

  “It’s there. We park by the garage on the lower level.” I eased the jeep down the slope. For an instant, the headlights shot out into space.

  Kevin gripped the armrest. “Jesus.”

  “You must be tons of fun in a high-speed car chase.”

  “At least then I can see the god-damned road.”

  Somewhere, a motion detector tripped and floodlights pierced the darkness. The empty parking apron outside the garage indicated we’d find Talbert alone. Small lanterns mounted about six inches above the ground marked the brick walk to the front door. A blue glow flickered through the high glass windows, probably from a television. The rain had withered to beads of mist hanging in the air.

  Kevin opened his door. “If he’s watching one of his old movies, he won’t want to leave.”

  I stepped out and waited for Kevin to walk around the front of the jeep. His right hand patted the small of his back where, underneath the Boston Red Sox jacket, he carried his holstered version of the Louisville Slugger. Our eyes locked. Nothing needed to be said. Franklin Talbert had slain a comrade-in-arms and the truth of that crime cried out through the unwavering loyalty of an old Montagnard and the strangled body of his son.

  I paused before ringing the bell. Kevin moved to the right and I realized he’d taken the position to avoid catching me in a crossfire. I eased to the left of the door. When it opened, a scene would begin and I had no clue as to how it would end.

  My finger hovered over the glowing button, but before I could press it, footsteps sounded on the other side. Talbert snapped the door open.

  “Has something happened?” He looked from me to Kevin. He wore jeans and an open-collar, blue-checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His casual attire clashed with the tension in his face.

  “No,” I said. “Not yet. But Sheriff Wadkins didn’t like the idea of you being alone up here. He wants you to spend the night at my cabin.”

  Talbert frowned, and then stepped back. “Come in. No sense standing outside.” He led us into the great room where the TV was now off. “Have a seat.” He pointed to the leather sofa. “I’m sure the sheriff is being overly cautious. I’ll be all right. I’ve asked the guard to call if anyone comes.”

  “Did the guard call you about us?” Kevin asked.

  Talbert froze. His tongue flicked over his lower lip. “No. I saw your Jeep pulling in.”

  Kevin shrugged. “There you go. If we can get by the guard, who’s to say our mystery sniper can’t?”

  “The sniper won’t look for you at the cabin. And we won’t be dealing with windows two stories high.” I swept my arm across the front of the condo. “Even with the drapes drawn, you make a target every time you cross in front of a light.”

  Talbert started toward the bedroom, but stopped. His eyes narrowed as if he saw something about me he didn’t like. “I don’t want to put you out two nights in a row.”

  “No problem. I’ll drop Kevin in town on the way. You can bring your suitcase. I’ll get you to the funeral tomorrow and you won’t have to deal with the mayor.” That was an offer I thought he couldn’t refuse.

  Talbert didn’t budge. Something had spooked him.

  “Or Barry and I can camp here if you’re too much of a pansy to give up your luxuries.” Kevin drenched the pitch in sarcasm, confident his Psych 101 ploy would do the trick.

  “All right,” Talbert said. “Let me call the guard and say you’re here. And she’d god-damned better not let anyone else through.”

  He turned for the back bedroom.

  “Stop.” Kevin shouted the words as he snatched the pistol from his back. “You’re going with us and you’re going now.”

  Talbert pivoted and took a step closer to me. “What’s going on?” He held out his empty hands. “Are you taking me hostage?”

  “We’re taking you where we can protect you,
” I said.

  “At gunpoint? How do I know I won’t be shot by the sniper as soon as we walk out that door? No. I’m going nowhere with you. You’ll have to shoot me yourself, Kevin. Would you do that to an old combat buddy?”

  The phrase “throwing gasoline on a fire” doesn’t begin to describe the incendiary explosion created by Talbert’s taunt. Kevin’s face blazed red. He cocked the pistol, rotating a loaded chamber under the hammer. His finger wrapped around the trigger.

  “I could put a bullet in you as easy as you put one in Jimmy Raven. Easier, because I’d be killing vermin, not murdering someone who trusted me.”

  A tremor ran through Talbert. The long-buried secret erupted in an uncontrollable shudder, rushing to the surface with damning conviction. “You’re crazy. Jimmy died in an ambush. I saw him go down.”

  For an actor, Franklin Talbert delivered his lines right out of a bad high school play. The tremor returned and his fingers twitched by his side.

  “Really?” Kevin inched closer, the gun pointed at Talbert’s chest. “That’s interesting. Then how do you explain the forty-five slug we found in Jimmy’s backbone?”

  If Talbert was acting now, he’d gone from high school to Oscar nomination. His breath came in short, guttural wheezes. He looked to me. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. Jimmy Raven died in Vietnam.”

  “I’m talking about loyalty,” Kevin said. “Y’Grok Eban brought Jimmy Raven home. That’s what his message to me was about. Bringing a comrade’s remains home. And bringing me the proof that Jimmy had been murdered.”

  “I didn’t kill Jimmy. Why would I?”

  “You cocky prick. Watch your own movie. Skimming the Raven funds. Selling out the network. Along with Jimmy’s bones is an envelope containing ten thousand dollars. Y’Grok signed the envelope like a receipt. You were his pay drop, and there was a hell of a lot more than ten thousand.”

  “I don’t know what happened to the money.” Talbert’s voice husked in a dry whisper.

  “You can tell that to General Weathers,” Kevin said. “If he doesn’t kill you first. Who do you think’s behind all this?”

  “Stormy?” Talbert looked at me for an answer.