The Dog Who Ate The Flintlock

by Edward Coburn

  “So you never found out what he wanted to talk to you about?”

  “No I didn’t, but I have a hunch whatever it was got him killed,” Adam said sadly. “If he’d been able to talk to me, perhaps he and I could have figured out something before it was too late.”

  “Now, none of that. I’m aware you can sometimes adjust the cause and effect of what you see in your visions, but not always. So even if you had known what Phillip was into you might not have been able to stop what was going to happen.”

  “That’s true, of course, but it doesn’t’ make me feel any better. Phillip was a friend.”

  “I understand that, and I’m sorry. But I won’t let you bury yourself in angst. What I will do, however, is let you find out who killed your friend since I wouldn’t be able to stop you anyway.”

  Adam smiled indulgently knowing she was right. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from investigating Phillip’s murder for he knew without a doubt it was murder. He then explained what he’d seen in his vision.

  “So you actually saw someone with a modern rifle in your vision?” Marti asked.

  He nodded.

  “Do you think you’d be able to identify the man you saw in your vision?”

  “I think so,” Adam said. “The vision was pretty clear. And, although there are a lot of big men, there can’t be that many big men with hands that large. I can talk to Sheriff Stibbens and see if he might recognize my description or, if not, maybe he can call someone he knows in the Charleston police force and ask them. I also might be able to go look at mug shots to see if I could pick him out.”

  “I’m sure the sheriff would be happy to help you figure out who committed a murder. Especially since he already knows the kind of things you can do.”

  “Yeah, I’m glad I let him in on my secret.” He had confided in the sheriff about his abilities shortly after moving to Canary Corners. It had taken a bit of convincing, but after Adam had explained the things he had been able to accomplish and shown the sheriff a scrapbook of his adventures that Adam’s mother had kept over the years, the sheriff had agreed to let Adam help solve a recent murder. During their efforts to find the killer, which Adam did, Adam also helped rescue an injured boy who’d fallen when he was climbing up a cliff he’d been expressly ordered by his mother not to climb. After those episodes, the sheriff no longer questioned how Adam was able to come up with information to which no one else was privy. The sheriff occasionally even actively sought Adam’s help with his tougher cases and had officially designated Adam a consultant.

  When Larry got back to Canary Corners, he and Judy went to the Tweet offices where Judy was the receptionist and Larry was the editor in chief as well as the owner. As soon as he sat behind his desk, he picked up his phone and called Adam.

  “Are you finally back?” Adam asked. He had dropped Marti at her house because she had homework to grade and he was now writing up his impressions of the reenactment skirting the murder for the moment. He didn’t know how much the sheriff would want him to say. He had the right to say anything he wanted as he was covered by freedom of the press, but unlike many reporters, he didn’t write things just because he could. He felt no compulsion to antagonize anyone, especially not the sheriff.

  “Yeah, we just got here. I hung around to talk to the forensics people from Charleston.”

  “Did they have anything useful to contribute?”

  “Not much, but they’re pretty sure he wasn’t killed by a musket ball. The coroner agreed with their assessment but, of course, they’ll have to wait for the autopsy to be sure.”

  Based on what Adam remembered about the research he did before he bought his musket, the typical musket ball was larger than most of the rounds fired from a modern rifle so he couldn’t disagree with what the forensics people and the coroner thought—primarily because of what he saw in his vision. “I think they’ll find that he was killed with a round from an AR 47 or something similar.”

  “How could you possibly know…” Larry started to ask before he remembered whom he was talking to. “What’d you see?”

  Adam explained the vision he saw when he reached down to see if Phillip was dead and his intention to describe what he witnessed in his vision to Sheriff Stibbens. “I think I’ll go talk to Daniel right now if he’s still here. He should let everybody know what I saw before the shooter’s position gets disturbed and whatever evidence might still be there gets destroyed.”

  “I think that’s a heck of an idea. I’m glad I thought of it,” Larry ribbed his friend.

  “I don’t think that even deserves comment, so I think I’ll just go visit the sheriff.” Adam snapped his fingers as if coming to a sudden realization. Which he had. “On second thought, he may have gone to Bearcave. As a matter of fact, I’ll bet he has. So I think I’ll call him instead.” He hung up on Larry and dialed Daniel’s number.

  “Sheriff Stibbens,” Daniel said when he answered.

  “Chief, this is Ram. May I ask where you are?” Daniel knew Adam’s real name, but Adam always used Ram in the hope that the sheriff would too so that others didn’t hear the sheriff call him Adam.

  “I’m in Bearcave at the moment. I’m sure you’ve heard about the murder by now.” Daniel was well aware of the speed of the Canary Corners’ grapevine. He’d have been surprised if Adam hadn’t heard. Being a favored reporter, Adam was one of the first people others called because they hoped to get their names in the paper.

  “Actually, I was there when Phillip’s body was discovered.”

  “So you were part of the reenactment?”

  “I was. At first, I was there because Larry wanted me to cover it for the paper, but, I have to admit, I sort of got into it. It’s funny, but I’m beginning to understand the attraction. It’s almost like playing cops and robbers like I did when I was a kid.”

  “I’m kind of into playing cops and robbers myself,” Daniel quipped.

  “All right enough with the jokes. I have something serious to pass along.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of the situation. What do you have?”

  “When we found the dead body…”

  “Phillip Mardoff,” Daniel interjected.

  “Yes. When we found Phillip’s body, I thought I recognized him as a friend from my time in New York so I reached down to roll him over slightly so I could see his face. When I did that, I saw a vision of a man up on the hillside with a modern rifle, probably an AK 47. Larry hung around until the forensics people got there and they, in addition to the coroner, don’t think he was killed by a musket ball, and I agree. During my research for the reenactment, I learned that a musket ball is a larger gauge than any rifle bullets. At least any of the commonly used rifle bullets.”

  “So you think the guy you saw on the hill in your vision, shot Mardoff.”

  “Yes. That’s what I think. As you know, my visions are generally related to an event directly tied to whatever I have touched, and I saw the vision when I touched Phillips body.”

  “Is the man you saw anyone you recognized?”

  “No. But I was hoping you might know of a big man with very large hands.”

  “Large hands?”

  “Yes. His hands were wrapped around his rifle like it was a toy.”

  “No…That doesn’t bring anyone to mind. Do you think you could describe him well enough for a police artist? I know they have a bang-up artist in Charleston.”

  “That’s one thing I had in mind. I also thought I could look through the mug books that Charleston probably has. They do have mug books don’t they.”

  “Yes. And it’s worth a shot. But you know that Charleston’s mug book will only have shots of persons arrested in or around Charleston.”

  “Yes. I know that.” Adam thought he knew what Daniel was getting at. “So you think this killer might be a hired gun from somewhere else.”

  “Not necessarily. I just didn’t want you to set your expectations too high.”

  “I
won’t. After all, this isn’t my first rodeo or murder as it were.”

  “I know that. How about if I give you a call when I get back to Canary Corners? Then we can take a run up to Charleston, and you can get with the police artist.”

  “Sounds good to me. When do you think that will be?”

  Daniel glanced at his watch. “I’m just about finished here. I should be able to be back in Canary Corners in a couple of hours.”

  “That works for me. Just call when you hit town.”

  Adam called Larry again. “Larry, how well do you know Tom from the Times Argus.”

  “No more than as a nodding acquaintance. Why?”

  “You were there when he said he knew Phillip.”

  “So you want me to call him to find out what Mardoff was up to?”

  “Not exactly. I want your permission to call him to ask him a few questions.”

  Larry shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what Adam had just said. “When did you ever need my permission to ask anyone questions?”

  “I don’t. I actually just wanted you to know what I was going to do. I think I should find out exactly what he was doing as a private eye and how that came about. The last time I dealt with him, he was a homicide cop in New York.”

  “Go ahead. I think it’s a good idea. It might lead you to whoever murdered him and why.”

  Larry always seemed to be tuned in to Adam’s wavelength. That was a good thing. It made their discussions easier when Larry understood Adam’s plans. They generally saw eye-to-eye when Adam was on a case although Larry sometimes tried to talk Adam out of doing something foolhardy in pursuit of a story. Although Adam knew Larry had done some foolish things in the past as well. It was always all about the story for both of them, regardless of the possible consequences. They had both been fortunate over the years to only end up with minor injuries while ending up with the story many more times than not. Naturally, Adam’s special abilities helped him in ways other reporters, including Larry, could only envy.

  “Just a second and I’ll give you the number of his direct line.” It was always better not to have to fight your way through all the levels of bureaucracy to get to whom you needed to talk to, and newspapers were no different than other businesses when it came to the plethora of secretaries and receptionists guarding the door to the newspaper’s powerbrokers, otherwise known as editors. Adam knew Tom was a reporter like he was. But like Adam, Tom Bridger had been around for a lot of years, so he was deemed essential and was protected from the myriad of crackpots and others looking for their fifteen minutes of fame. Adam was insulated because his phone number was not publicized and none of the Tweet reporters knew it either. Only Larry and Judy at the paper knew his number, and they never gave it out. If anyone at the paper needed to talk to Adam by phone, Judy would call him and then pass the call to the other party. If a citizen claimed the need to speak with Adam, Judy took a message and then Adam called back at his leisure if he deemed it appropriate. But that was up to Adam to decide. He generally did make the call if it was not related to the Rambling Foundation. If it was, the message was passed to Debbie, the foundation's manager, and it became her decision. The public had been informed they were not to contact Adam directly about the foundation but to go through Debbie. If they didn’t, Adam still didn’t feel it was right to turn down their request only because they broke that simple rule. So, they were passed to Debbie.

  Larry gave Adam Tom Bridger’s number, and Adam immediately called. “Bridger,” he said.

  “Tom, this is Ram, a reporter for the Tweet.”

  “Yes, Ram. I read you all the time. Didn’t I see you at the reenactment?”

  “Yes you did, and that’s why I’m calling. I heard you say you knew Phillip Mardoff.”

  Tom paused before answering. “I do, or rather I did. He was a private investigator in Charleston. I had him do some research for me a couple of times. He was good. He used to be a cop in New York.”

  “I know. I knew him when I worked in New York.” Adam deliberately didn’t say they used to work together. He didn’t want to tell Tom any more than he had to. A reporter with as much history as Tom had might easily leap to conclusions and be able to connect dots Adam would prefer to remain unconnected. “So, what can you tell me about him?”

  “Well…as I said, he was good at his job, and I used him several times. He has an office on Randolph Street, and his secretary is named…umm…Carinda I think. Give me a minute, and I’ll get his number for you.”

  Adam waited a few beats until Tom came back on the line. “Here it is,” Tom gave Adam the phone number.

  “Is that his office or a cell?”

  “His office. I also have his cell if you want that as well.”

  “Not necessary. I want to talk to the secretary if she’s in the office. She might not be there considering what happened.”

  “True. But maybe she hasn’t heard yet.”

  “If Charleston’s grapevine is anything like Canary Corner’s grapevine, she would have heard almost before the echo of the shot that killed him had stopped reverberating.”

  “True enough. Hold on…” Tom held his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone while he answered someone’s question. “It’s been nice talking to you, but if there’s nothing else, I’ve got a problem with one of my stories, and I’ll have to let you go.”

  “No problem. Thanks for the phone number.”

  “You know if you uncover anything important I’ll expect an exclusive.”

  Everybody's a comedian, Adam thought. “Fat chance. I just want to find out what he was into that got him killed.”

  “And I don’t?”

  “Maybe you do, but I’m not going to burn up my shoe leather just to pass my story on to you.”

  “Okay…Okay. It was worth a try.”

  “Again, thanks for the phone number. I’ll return the favor when and if I can.”

  “With an exclusive?”

  “Dream on,” Adam said as he closed his flip phone.

  He immediately dialed the number he’d been given, and after listening to five rings, he left a message for Carinda including his phone number. He stated he was interested in finding out what case or cases Phillip had been working on to help him find out who killed Phillip.

  Chapter 29

  Jenny had been with Amy just over two weeks now, and they had been getting along famously. They spent long hours reminiscing about their childhood together and giggling about the silly things each of them did. They also filled each other in on their last five years apart including stories about Jenny’s time on the streets.

  One thing Jenny did not share was her kidnapping of the Nelson baby from the hospital. She still felt guilty about it and wasn’t sure how Amy would react but had decided on her way to Colorado Springs not to tell her friend of the shameful episode even though she had her reasons for doing it. Jenny had offered Amy some of her money for letting Jenny stay with her, but Amy claimed she was doing fine financially and would not accept a penny. Jenny managed to get a job at a fast food restaurant near Amy’s apartment and had been buying food for the two of them. At least she could do that much. Jenny even paid for them to go out to a movie once. It had seemed good on the previews on TV, and the reviews they looked up on the internet said it was a good movie, but neither one enjoyed it. They liked the movie they watched on TV after they got home much better and Jenny pointed out that it didn’t cost them anything.

  Even though it was now Saturday, Amy had to go to work. Her company had a big project to finish, and it was all hands on deck. Amy said she would get double time if she went in, so Jenny didn’t argue. Besides, as an interloper, Jenny didn’t feel it was right to complain about anything Amy felt she had to do. She was just glad to have whatever time Amy had to give. Therefore, she would read, relax, and watch a bit of TV until Amy got home. Then maybe they would hit a few of Colorado Springs’s hot spots though neither of them was much of a partier.

  Jenny was readin
g a nursing magazine Amy had picked up for her when she heard a car door slam outside of the apartment. She generally ignored such things, but this time she had a strange feeling, she couldn’t explain, that it was important. She gazed out the window at the man who had just gotten out of the car. She didn’t know him, but her premonition wouldn’t go away, so she walked into the bedroom and grabbed her stun gun off the nightstand. Amy had asked her about the stun gun, but Jenny explained it as being paranoia from living on the streets in LA. As she was walking back into the living room, her cell phone rang. She didn’t know anyone besides Amy in Colorado Springs and couldn’t imagine who’d be calling. She glanced at the display before she answered, but all it said was that the number was blocked.

  “Hello,” she said tentatively.

  “Am I speaking to June Henderson?”

  Jenny’s blood went cold. “Ronald?” She couldn’t believe it was him. How stupid of her to keep the phone he’d given her. But maybe she could still hide because there was no way she was going to tell him where she was. Nobody knew about Amy. And nobody was going to know about Amy least of all Ronald. She had to protect Amy. She couldn’t drag Amy into her problems. Even if she had to go back to LA, she would protect Amy. But he simply couldn’t know where she was. He’d only called the phone number he already knew.

  “Yes, it’s me. You’re a hard lady to find.” He interrupted her musings.

  “What do you want?”

  “I don’t want anything except to tell you one of my friends is coming to talk to you.”

  She instantly knew that was who she had seen through the window and was glad for her premonition. What was she to do? She fingered the stun gun. “How…Who…” she started to ask but then simply closed her flip phone cutting Ronald off.

  She heard a phone ring outside her door. A minute later someone pounded on and then yelled through the door, “Jenny, I know you’re in there.” He pounded on the door again.