Dead Fall Back

by Tony Masero

  “Did you check further out?”

  “Um, no I didn´t, Chief.... reckoned you only wanted local.”

  Stoeffel sighed. “Do it,” he said. “State wide. Take a picture of the damned thing and email it around to all law enforcement offices. Check with Customs too, find out who imports them.”

  “Sure, Chief.... er, right now?”

  “Yes. Right now!”

  Red faced, Leroy scurried from the room in an embarrassed rush.

  Stoeffel rubbed his face in his hands tiredly before looking up at Jimmy Luke and Summersby.

  “Hope you got something better for me.”

  “Well,” began Summersby. “That place up there in the woods was definitely a factory. There´s traces of the shit all over the place. We distilled and analyzed a lot of ash samples and read out high amounts of hydrochloride salt deposits.”

  “What about the John Doe?”

  Jimmy Luke read off his report. “No ID yet. Male victim, about thirty-five years old. He was burned to death, that’s a fact, crisped real good, so no fingerprints. We´ll get something off the teeth maybe. How he got to where he was we don´t know but guess someone moved him out there against the tree stump just prior to or post death. Bugs and the forest critters finished off most of the body tissue postmortem. We reckon the time of death was about three to four weeks previous.”

  “One thing though,” added Summersby. “His gut held some residue of a substance called cocaethylene. Now you get this in human liver when cocaine and alcohol are mixed. It creates a greater high for the user but potentially increases the risk of sudden death.”

  “You reckon that’s what did our boy?”

  “My guess is the guy was working in his lab there, snorting his own stuff and drinking as well. He fumbles around, knocks over a gas lamp or something and whoompf, the place goes up. But he didn´t die in there, somebody got him out. With his degree of burns there´s no way he could have dragged himself out so it tells us the guy had one or more partners.”

  Stoeffel hummed thoughtfully. “Question is, are these people still around or did they take off after the fire?”

  Summersby looked doubtful. “Something’s going on up in those woods, Chief. My gut feeling is they´re still around.”

  “But I can´t take that to DEA in Charleston. We need something more positive to show it’s a live one.”

  Summersby looked grim. “We´ll find it, we just have to keep digging.”

  Stoeffel looked at him for a moment and wondered at this sudden display of determination.

  “Well, we have a definite capital offense on our hands with the Links girl. Let’s keep our priorities right. So, Jason, the Links boy, how´d he check out?”

  Legrand offered Stoeffel the time sheets.

  “Not too well, Chief. It says here he was back in the storeroom at one thirty but I got a witness that says he turned up at about three thirty and was definitely seen with the little girl prior to that.”

  George, who had been sitting silently throughout, grunted.

  “He´s our perp. Got to be, Chief. A drug sheet. Gives the girl the toy with the drug traces on it. Seen with kid just before it happened. Lying about his times. Has to be.”

  Stoeffel nodded. “It certainly doesn´t look good for him. The missing time indicates he could have committed the crime and then been back at work. All it took was a clock-in on his sheet, then a disappearing act for a few hours. But where is the motive, why would he kill his own sister?”

  Summersby shrugged. “You know how it is as well as me, Chief. Most family homicides are com- mitted by a close relative. You may not like statistics but that’s what they say.”

  “Okay, we´ll bring him in for questioning. George, go fetch him. No rough stuff though, remember he´s only a suspect as yet and that family have gone through enough already. It´s a damned shame if we´re wrong but we´ll need to get a search warrant. If we find the murder weapon in that house it´s a done deal.”

  “One more thing, Chief,” said Legrand. Stoeffel raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  “Bubba Rose has a bunch of guys working for him. They look a little rough. And one of them has prison tats on his arm. Aryan Brotherhood stuff. I´d like to run a check on them.”

  Stoeffel nodded and looked out the window at the gathering darkness. “Sure. Do it.” He remembered he had a place to be.

  Chapter Eleven

  Stoeffel stepped out of the shower and wet shaved in front of a steamy mirror.

  He was nervous and tried to calm himself by thinking about the cases. He wondered whether the two were connected but couldn´t think how. A burnt out cabin and a little black girl, the two didn´t track. The only link was the drugs. With traces in one crime and a factory in the other. Who the hell had been manufacturing this stuff in his county (only state that has parishes instead of counties is Louisiana) without a whisper reaching him? He suddenly remembered the old lady out there in the forest. Mother Jobin. Damn, he had a trunk full of groceries for her and hadn´t had time to get out to her house with them. Well, too late now. It would have to wait until tomorrow.

  Most things usually did, he realized. The case always came first. But this was what he did and that was the way of it. He wondered how someone like Jenny would be about that. He doubted she would take it too kindly. Finishing up in the bathroom he went through to his bedroom, opening up the wardrobe with the sudden realization that he had no idea what to wear. It had been a long time. Too long. The only thing he had worn for the past few years had been one or the other of his two sets of chief´s uniform. Hell, would anything fit? He knew his waistline had crept out a piece even though he still followed a regular regimen of exercise, swearing to himself after Leonora´s passing that he would not allow himself to go to seed. He was rummaging through forgotten jackets when the phone rang.

  “Stoeffel,” he said.

  “Chief, it’s George.”

  “Yes son, you have the Link´s boy in custody?”

  “We do, Chief.”

  “You read him his rights?”

  “All done by the book, sir.”

  “How´d he take it?”

  George paused a moment. “Well, Chief, kinda strange. First off he was pissed. Shouting and that as you´d expect. His Mom was crying and his Pa just sat there looking sad. Then he kind of folded, like it was expected or something. I don´t know, can´t really explain it. But after that he came in quiet as you please.”

  “He getting himself a lawyer?”

  “His Pa is sorting that.”

  “Okay, George. You´re on duty tonight, aren´t you?”

  “Yes, Chief.”

  “Right, you need me, use my pager. But make sure it’s a matter of life and death first.”

  Stoeffel looked at his watch and gave up trying. He climbed into the first things that fit. A pair of chinos and a pale blue shirt. Shrugging into a wool jacket he looked at himself in the hall mirror and wondered again what the hell he was doing. With a heavy sigh, he snatched up his wallet, keys and pager and left.

  Jenny Lowell was waiting at the store window when he pulled up. He tooted the horn and she smiled at him and waved through the glass before collecting her coat and locking the door behind her.

  “Hi there,” she said, settling into the passenger seat.

  Stoeffel nodded. “You look good,” he said.

  And she did. He had caught a glimpse of the little black evening dress before she had slipped on her coat. It fitted her slim figure like a glove and his earlier concerns began to slip away at the prospect of spending time with an attractive woman.

  “Thank you.” She smiled. “Tell the truth, it’s been so long I didn´t know what to wear. Let alone if it would fit.”

  Stoeffel looked across in momentary stunned surprised.

  “You too! I thought that particular problem was limited to my sorry ass.”

  She laughed freely and Stoeffel found he was joining in as well.

  “Okay.... what do I cal
l you, since I can´t call you Chief all night?”

  “First name´s Paul.”

  “Pleased to meet you Paul.”

  “Likewise. Now where do you want to go eat? We could try out at Minerstown but I´m not what you´d call a connoisseur of eating places around here.”

  She smiled. “Police fare, huh? Doughnuts and fries.”

  Stoeffel looked down with fake contrition into the well of the driving seat.

  “Okay, you got me there.”

  “Damn it!” she said suddenly with a twinkle in her eye. “Let’s really raise some hell. Let’s hit the Low Down and start some rumors around this town.”

  “Oh boy,” he chuckled, starting the engine. “You really are a dangerous woman.”

  Heads turned in unison as they walked through the evening crowd to the restaurant end of the Low Down Coffee Shop. Stoeffel found he was enjoying the attention as he took Jenny´s coat and hung it on the stand alongside stained jean jackets and worn windcheaters.

  Iris rushed over and fussed around them as if royalty had just entered.

  “Evening. Chief, Jenny,” smiling shyly as she proffered a menu to Jenny. “The usual for you Chief?”

  “Er, no thank you, Iris. Maybe I´ll try something different tonight.”

  They ordered pasta and salad, even though Stoeffel guessed it would taste like dry shoelaces and wet paper. He asked Iris to fetch a bottle of Californian white and also asked her to sort out a candle for the table. Iris did her best and the lighted stub duly arrived set in an empty bourbon bottle.

  “Well,” apologized Stoeffel. “I´m sorry, it isn´t quite a boulevard cafe in Paris, France.”

  “It’s just fine, Paul. Just fine.”

  Stoeffel poured her a glass. “Here´s to you.”

  They clinked glasses and drank. It was only then that the rest of the place returned back to its normal volume and they realized that a subdued mass observation had been taking place all along.

  Stoeffel chuckled and winked at Jenny. “I like it,” he said.

  “There´s a light in your eye I haven´t seen before, Paul Stoeffel.”

  “Aw,” he confessed confidentially. “I just don´t get out that much.”

  “Me either, come to that.”

  Stoeffel frowned. “Why is that, Jenny? I would have thought there would have been plenty of guys knocking on your door.”

  “Ah,” she said, pressing her lips into a thin smile. “But what kind of guys?”

  Stoeffel looked down at his glass. “I´m honored then.”

  “So you should be,” she laughed.

  Out of their sight, at the bar end of the coffee shop, Jason Legrand sat nursing a last beer before heading home. He had seen Stoeffel and Jenny come in but had kept a low profile as he figured they did not want to be disturbed. He could see the rest of Lodrun was already making a meal of it and had no doubts that the news was already racing around town.

  The door opened behind him and Hose Cobble shuffled in. The old man, still dressed in his dungarees and watch cap, moved quickly to the bar. His fingers working unsteadily at a little leather purse he carried in the pocket of his overalls.

  “Let me get that,” said Legrand. “What´ll it be?”

  “Oh, thanks Deputy. Just a beer.”

  Jason ordered the beer from Joe who was bartending, and the old man glugged it back gratefully straight from the neck.

  “Ah,” he sighed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “That’s better. Obliged.”

  “No problem,” said Legrand. “You working late?”

  “Uhuh, need the cash.”

  The way the beer disappeared and his hands shook, Legrand reckoned the man had a drinking problem and in truth needed the overtime to satisfy his thirst.

  “How about you?” asked Cobble. He seemed eager to talk but Legrand realized that it was just the need for a drinking partner. “Get you another one, Deputy?”

  “No thanks. That’s my last. I´m on my way home.”

  “Well, I think I might.” He nodded to Joe, who set him up with a shot and beer chaser as if he was well used to the old man´s order.

  Maybe, figured Legrand, Bubba liked to have fellow drinkers around him and that’s why he kept the old man on. “Seem like a rough old crew you´ve got working with you up there,” he said by way of conversation.

  “Sure are.” The old man cleared his throat noisily, looking into his glass. “Weren´t at all bad in the warehouse until that lot turned up.” He demolished half the glass of beer in noisy gulps.

  “How long they all been there then?”

  “Oh, no more than six months. Brian and me are the only ones left of the original crew. Bubba laid them all off when this lot came to town.”

  “What’s the attraction? By the look of them they´re probably more trouble than they´re worth.”

  “I dunno,” Cobble scratched at his head under the cap. “It ain´t me that runs the place. They does their work and keeps their noses clean as long as Bubba´s about. Rest of the time they just laze about. Oh, they do as they´re told when a job comes in. In fact they work good as a team, almost like they´ve been together a while. But if you ask me they´s a bad lot.”

  “How long you been with Bubba?”

  Cobble chuckled wheezily and took out his cigarette makings. “Me? Since they built the Ark, I reckon. Took me on when he bought the place.”

  Legrand resisted the temptation to remind him about smoking in public places, he knew that Joe was lax about the notion anyway.

  “Long time. He must like you.”

  “We´re related,” confessed Cobble. “Distantly, you know, through some old aunt or other. What with my chest an´ all, I know I ain´t much help down there but I think he keeps me on out of some kind of family loyalty. He´s good that way.”

  “And Brian?”

  Cobble shrugged and lit his cigarette. He puffed a few seconds and raised a hacking cough, swallowing the rest of the beer to clear his throat.

  “Good little worker. Keeps his end up. There´s a lot of heavy work there, you know. T´ain´t easy. I seen Brian in an´ out of those cages slick as a gopher, fetching an´ carrying. He does well.”

  “Okay,” said Legrand, pushing his empty bottle away. “That’s me done, better be heading out now. Nice talking to you.”

  “Pleasure, Deputy. See you around.”

  As he made the door, he saw Stoeffel catch his eye over Jenny´s shoulder. They nodded a greeting to each other and Legrand left smiling, glad the Chief was making some headway at re-entering the world again.

  Stoeffel watched the door close behind his deputy and felt a wave of affection for the man. He was glad he had him there as backup. Legrand was a quietly reassuring figure of stability that knew the ways of the world and approached them with a balanced calmness. Stoeffel felt that life held little in it that could surprise Legrand.

  The contentment reached across the table to Jenny and she watched him with curious eyes.

  “Well, Paul I´m glad we´ve finally gotten to meet each other.”

  “Uhuh,” he agreed. “I reckon I haven´t been much of a social animal the last few years.”

  She nodded sympathetically. “Since your wife´s passing? I heard about that, I´m sorry. They say she was a fine woman.”

  Stoeffel nodded silent agreement.

  “When my Aaron had his accident, I never thought I would get over it. It was the girls that brought me through. If it hadn´t been for them I think I would have given up.”

  “Yeah, we never managed kids. Left it too late, I guess. It was a great disappointment for both of us. Certainly would have been something to remember her by. As it is,” he paused with a downward turn of his mouth, “I sometimes think there is only me in the world that remembers she existed.”

  Jenny could see his pain and reached across the table to place her hand on his.

  “It´s a lonely time,” she said. “One nobody else can help you with. I know how it is.”

 
; “Funny,” he confided, feeling a sudden breeze of release run through him at the possibility of talking about something he had held bottled up for so long. “It’s been years and I still don´t seem to be able to let go of her, even now after all this time.”

  “They go on living for us as long as we remember them,” she said kindly. “And then time does its work. And they fade, Paul. As they should. They go on to where they belong.”

  Stoeffel withdrew his hand from under Jenny´s at the thought. Leonora was something he was not prepared to let go of just yet.

  Jenny sat back, lifting her glass to her lips thoughtfully.

  “You´re a stubborn man, Paul Stoeffel.”

  Stoeffel realized he must have appeared brusque and apologized.

  “I´m sorry, Jenny. It´s just.... it´s difficult to...”

  “You must have held it inside a long time,” she observed. “All that grief.”

  Stoeffel shrugged. “It’s the job, I guess. Everything takes second place when there are a lot of other people´s more severe problems all around you. You tend to bury things. To put on a face of reliability for the rest of the world. People in distress need that. To see that you can take command of a situation. That you can handle it.”

  “Even though maybe you can´t?” she almost whispered.

  “Like you said earlier,” there was a grim note of finality in his voice. “It’s a lonely time. For a cop, maybe it gets to be twice as lonely, that’s all.”

  “I´ll remember that,” she said. Stoeffel saw the icy gleam that sparked in her eye and he wondered at the memory that his words had resurrected. Strangely though, he still liked that bite in the woman. He recognized the backbone there and respected it.

  “So,” he said. “What brought you here to Lodrun. Was it your husband´s job?”

  “Uhuh,” she nodded. “I met Aaron back in Ontario. He was up there for some logging contest. You know, dumb lumberjacking stuff. I was drifting, not really doing anything worthwhile. Basically not having a very good time in my life. And there he was,” she smiled at the memory. “A little drunk at the time and making a pass. I didn´t go for it at first, him having had a little too much to drink. But later, well, later we got to know each other better and it was okay.”