In The Bleak Midwinter: A Special Agent Constance Mandalay Novel

by M. R. Sellars

  “Does he have anyone to take care of him?”

  “Us,” Clovis returned, making a small sweep with her hand. “That’s the other reason Stella called. To let us know he’s probably skipped some pills again.”

  “One of the many hidden advantages of living in a small town, I suppose,” Constance mused.

  “We do try to look out for one another,” Clovis agreed. “We’ll probably send Mel over to his house to check on him like usual. She seems to have a way with him when he’s off his medication.”

  “That’s good… So…what else can you tell me about him? Stella said he’s not even a real minister.”

  “She’s right, he’s not…” She paused and gave a halfhearted shrug. “Well, not that we know of, anyway. He’s lived here all his life and nobody in Hulis has any recollection of him even going to church, much less becoming an ordained minister of any sort.”

  “Well, he’s apparently spent some time studying the Bible,” Constance offered. “He was quoting verses to me.”

  Clovis nodded. “Let me guess, they all had to do with Satan.”

  “Yes. They did. I suppose that’s not unique, then.”

  “Not really. That’s what he does. When he’s been off his pills for a while, he gets convinced that everyone here is possessed by the devil himself.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “Don’t know. Like I said, he’s addled. He has been for years now.”

  “Well, thanks for filling me in; I appreciate it.”

  “No problem, Agent Mandalay. Thank you for being so understanding about this. I really don’t think he’ll be bothering you again.”

  The wind was at Constance’s back during her return walk to the Greenleaf Motel. However, that didn’t keep it from stinging the exposed portions of her cheeks, because she couldn’t stop casting a wary eye over her shoulder.

  Something about Clovis’s explanation regarding Pastor Reese wasn’t sitting well with her. She didn’t think the woman was necessarily lying about anything she had said, but something down in her gut was telling her that there was more to the story.

  The truth was, it seemed like everyone in this town was hiding something. Except maybe for Merrie Callahan, but at the moment—for reasons Constance didn’t even want to imagine—she wasn’t talking either.

  CHAPTER 20

  10:06 A.M. – December 24, 2010

  Greenleaf Motel

  Hulis Township – Northern Missouri

  “MMNNMM…Yemm…Thizizstrrmmm…” The mumbled mish-mash of syllables issuing from the cell phone sounded like the owner of the voice was still firmly attached to his pillow. As it happened, there was a very good reason for that.

  He was.

  Constance felt a rush of envy well up in her chest as Ben’s barely intelligible greeting flowed into her ear.

  She wanted sleep.

  She desperately needed sleep.

  But here he was getting the sleep instead of her, and illogical as she knew it was, that just made her resentment grow. The monster’s eyes turned from green to red as the jealousy began to quickly morph through dangerous phases. An instant later it had become a quick burst of anger that escaped the bonds of discretion.

  “Dammit, it’s already after ten,” Constance barked into her cell phone. Playful was definitely not an accurate description of her tone. “Get your ass out of bed!”

  “Whoa…” Ben grumbled in return, his voice sounding far more alert this time. “Merry fuckin’ Christmas to you too…”

  Constance emptied her lungs with a violent exhale, then sat down hard on the corner of her ravaged motel bed. It didn’t give much, so she groaned as the unexpected thud sent a dull ache shooting up her spine and radiating out through the muscles of her back. Pitching slowly forward at the waist, she rested her free elbow on her knee then dropped her forehead into her palm. Taking in a deep breath, she started gently massaging her temples with her thumb and fingers.

  “You okay?” Ben’s concerned voice rolled out of the cell phone speaker after a lengthy pause.

  “Yeah… I’m fine,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

  He was definitely awake now. “I forgive ya’. I’m sure I prob’ly deserved it for somethin’ else. Sure you’re okay? I was sorta expectin’ ta’ hear from ya’ last night.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that too. I got a little sidetracked.”

  “I can relate. Been there… So…who pissed in your cornflakes this mornin’? Besides me, I mean.”

  “Actually, I had to start a list,” she replied. “Unfortunately, I also had to put myself at the top of it.”

  “Ouch. Been there too. I hate when that happens.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “Me too.”

  “Wanna talk about it?” he asked.

  “Yes… No…” she stammered. “I just don’t really know…”

  “Okay… That’s a start I guess,” he said. “You sleep okay? You sound like crap on a stick.”

  “Thanks.” Her reply was liberally frosted with sarcasm.

  “Just bein’ honest.”

  “Yeah, I know…” she said. “Truth is, not really. I got some, but not nearly enough.”

  “Guess that’d explain the nasty ‘tude, huh?”

  “Don’t press your luck, buddy. I’m not over being jealous that you were still in bed when I called.”

  “Yeah… My bad. I shoulda known better’n ta’ sleep,” he fired back a sardonic volley of his own.

  “Touché.”

  “All right, so you ain’t sleepin’. Are ya’ at least eatin’ okay?”

  Constance pulled the phone away from her ear and made a face at it. Then she tucked it back up beneath her hair and said, “What are you this morning? My mother?”

  “Well, technically speakin’, I’m damn near old enough to be your dad.”

  “Not a good visual, dear. Especially not if you ever want sex again,” she groaned.

  “Noted,” he replied.

  “But to answer your question, I just had pancakes and eggs.”

  “Pancakes and eggs, at the same meal? You? When’s the last time you ate?”

  “I just told you.”

  “You know what I mean.” He didn’t sound amused.

  “It’s not important.”

  “Dammit, Constance…” he grumbled. “For someone who’s so friggin’ health conscious you sure have problems takin’ care of yourself.”

  “Not always… Can we change the subject please?”

  “Yeah… Whatever… So since you’re on the phone, I gotta assume you’re still stuck in Whoville?”

  “Hulis.”

  “Yeah, there.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Didn’t you say that’s about four hours north or somethin’ like that?”

  “Give or take.”

  “Well, I’m off today,” he said, an audible shrug in his voice. “Want me ta’ drive up? Betchya’ I could make it in three. Maybe two’n-uh half if you tell me you’re wearin’ somethin’ sexy.”

  “Dammit, I’m working a case here, Ben!” she snapped, then sighed a quiet, “I’m sorry… Again…”

  He huffed out a breath and grunted. “You don’t just need sleep, hon. Ya’ sound like you could use a few rounds with a punchin’ bag.”

  She snorted. “Are you offering?”

  “Pretty sure I just did.”

  “Yeah, I guess you did, didn’t you…”

  Constance slid her hand up through her hair and scratched the back of her scalp absently. She grimaced and pulled away when her fingers ventured too close to the residual soreness from her incident with the desk.

  She could hear an occasional clunk or rustle at the other end of the line, which meant Ben was now out of bed and moving around. A few moments later he started mumbling curses, vocally naming the coffee pot as the object of his current disdain.

  After countless heartbeats with nothing being said, Ben spoke up. “Talk ta’ me, Constance. Wh
at’s goin’ on?”

  He opened the door and all she had to do was step through. For all his faults in the relationship department, Ben still had his moments. Of course, listening wasn’t always one of them, unless you caught him at just the right time or you were talking about a case. It didn’t take ESP for him to figure out the latter was why she had called.

  She sucked in a deep breath and thought about unloading on him. All of it—the house, the voice, the dream, Merrie—everything she could think of that was bothering her. But she didn’t really believe that would do either of them any good. In fact, it would probably be worse, because in the end she’d still have all the problems, and he would be worrying. Besides, she actually had a specific reason for making this call, so she needed to stay focused on that.

  “I need a favor,” she said. “Three, actually.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “First, I want you to run a background check on someone for me. His name is Ed Reese.”

  “Hang on,” he grunted. “Lemme get somethin’ ta’ write with…” After a bit of rustling he mumbled, “Ed… Reese… Okay, got it. Any other info you can give me on ‘im?”

  “Not much,” she replied. “He goes by Pastor Ed Reese, but nobody in town recalls him ever becoming ordained.”

  “Hell, you can do it online these days,” he grunted.

  “True,” she agreed. “He’s apparently lived in Hulis his whole life…”

  “Hugh Liss… Spell it.”

  “H-U-L-I-S.”

  “Got it.”

  “He looks to be in his mid to late sixties. About five-ten to six foot, one-seventy to one-eighty… Hair is mostly gray with some dark brown in it. Brown eyes. Wears glasses. No real distinguishing marks to speak of, that were visible anyway.”

  There was a pause while he made notes. Finally he said, “Okay, got that…”

  “I managed to find out that he’s divorced, and at some point in his adult life he had some sort of severe mental breakdown. This was several years ago; not sure how long though. He supposedly spent some time in the hospital; also not sure of a timeframe on that either. He’s supposedly still on psych meds, so apparently he’s still under a doctor’s care.”

  Ben sighed. “Yeah, well all that’s gonna be hidin’ behind HIPAA unless there’s a damn good reason to know and a really specific warrant.”

  “I know.”

  “Just for drill, got any idea which hospital? I mean, ya’ just never know who might be stupid enough ta’ talk.”

  “Yeah, exactly. Well, all I know is that it was in Mais, Missouri. That’s M-A-I-S. It’s bigger than Hulis, but it’s not a huge city, so I doubt there are more than a couple of hospitals there.”

  “Okay… Anything else?”

  “Yeah, he drives an older model, black Crown Vic. Plate was obscured and I only caught a quick glimpse of it, but it was a Missouri tag, and I’m pretty sure it started with a G.” Without pause she began thinking aloud. “As to a year, let me see… The rear plate mount wasn’t up on the trunk, so it was pre-ninety-five… But the body style was definitely rounded, so it’s at least a ninety-two. Come to think of it, it also had a front grille, so I’d have to say ninety-three or four. That should at least help narrow it down some.”

  “Showoff…” Ben muttered.

  She ignored the gibe and added, “Of course, I don’t know for sure if it’s registered to him or someone else. My guess would be him though.”

  “That it?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “No prob; it’s more than I’d get from someone on the street… Okay… So what’s the story? You think maybe this guy’s good for the murders?”

  She shook her head out of reflex. “I have no idea. He contacted me this morning and said he had information about the case, but never got around to actually telling me. He sort of freaked out, recited some Bible verses, then took off.”

  “Wunnerful… Sounds like maybe he’s just a wingnut.”

  “That crossed my mind, trust me. And you’re right; he probably is. But I still need to check him out.”

  “Yeah, I hear ya’… So whaddabout the local coppers?” he suggested. “Surely they know somethin’ about ‘im, especially if he’s a nutjob.”

  “That’s just it; I think they do, but they aren’t really sharing.”

  “Hmph,” Ben grunted. “So Sherlock ain’t playin’ so nice, huh?”

  “I wouldn’t say that exactly. He’s not bad, to be honest,” she replied. “I actually like the man, and he seems to be a really good cop. But I definitely feel like he’s holding something back.”

  “Gut?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Gotta trust it.”

  “That’s what I’m doing. Of course, I suppose he could be playing it close to the vest because I’m the fifth agent that’s been sent out here on this case, and from what I’ve seen, he hasn’t received much help from the bureau so far. Based on what he’s said, I know for a fact there are some serious trust issues for him where the FBI is concerned.”

  “Yeah… Maybe…” he huffed. “Doesn’t justify holdin’ out on ya’, though. He should know that.”

  “So are you the pot or the kettle? Seems to me we did that dance ourselves once upon a time.”

  “Uh-huh…” he grunted again. “Don’t remind me. I think I’ve paid my dues on that one.” After a short pause he spoke up again. “So, ya’ said ya’ wanted three favors?”

  “Yes. The next thing is could you run an NCIC query on Merrie Frances Callahan, and John Horace Colson. Specifically what I’m looking for would be any case information regarding Merrie’s abduction on December twenty-second, nineteen seventy-five, and Colson’s subsequent death on the twenty-fifth.”

  “I can do that,” he said. “But ya’know if the paper you’re holdin’ is already incomplete on a case that old, I really doubt there’ll be anything in the database.”

  “Agreed, but I’d like to know for sure.”

  “And number three?”

  “I’d like for you to get me whatever you can on Sheriff Addison Carmichael.”

  “Thought you said you liked ol’ Sheriff Sherlock? Second guessin’ yourself now, are ya’?”

  “Just trusting my gut. I really don’t think he’s dirty, but… Well… You know. I’d just like to have some background so I can cover all the bases.”

  “Yeah, can’t hurt.”

  “He’s been the sheriff here for at least the last seven years. And, he was a deputy here back in seventy-five…”

  “Okay, got it…”

  “Somewhere in between he was with the KCPD. Made detective from what I’ve picked up in conversation.”

  “KC Missouri or KC Kansas?”

  “I’d assume Missouri, but I’m not sure.”

  “No prob; I’ll figure it out.”

  “Thanks. I owe you.”

  “Yeah… We can talk about that later. Okay… Well, I’m sure you knew this was comin’, so here it is, the sixty-four-kay question. You’re a Feeb. You’ve got better resources than the metropolitan PD. Why’re ya’ callin’ me ta’ do this? Forget ta’ take your computer with ya’?”

  “That’s the other thing I should mention,” she sighed. “I sort of need you to keep all this under the radar. In fact, it would be best if you could get someone else to pull the NCIC info, so your name isn’t on it since you can be connected back to me.” A thick silence fell in the wake of her words. She took several measured breaths as she waited for a response, then finally gave in and said, “Ben? Are you still there?”

  His voice flat, he responded, “Yeah… I had a feelin’ that’s what you were gonna say. Jeezus… What the hell’ve you stepped in up there, hon?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “But I’m pretty sure the sheriff isn’t the only one holding out on me.”

  “Feeb central?”

  “Possibly. I don’t know. I just don’t want any red flags popping up until I’m sure, so if you could mask the queries someh
ow that would help. I just definitely don’t want them coming from my computer with my ID.”

  “Okay, tell me exactly where you’re stayin’,” he said. “I’m on my way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m comin’ up there.”

  “No,” she objected. “I need you to stay right where you are and do that background check for me.”

  “Constance, think about it. You’re in the middle of north fuckin’ nowhere, workin’ a jacked up serial case, and now you’re tellin’ me your own people might be coverin’ somethin’ up. You need backup, hon, and you need it yesterday.”

  His reaction wasn’t wholly unexpected, and it made her glad she’d held back on the emotional information dump. If she’d told him about the anonymous email and texts, or especially the incident at the soda machine last night, he would probably already be halfway here. There were times when it was cute that he wanted to come to her rescue, but this wasn’t one of them.

  “Don’t overreact, Ben. I appreciate your concern—really I do—but I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can, but this could be different.”

  “I’m a big girl, Ben. With a badge and a gun and bullets and everything.”

  “I just dunno… What if–”

  She cut him off. “I can take care of myself. Think about it… I took you to the mat, didn’t I?”

  “Two outta three falls.”

  “Well?”

  “It’s that one outta the three that worries me, hon.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I let you win that time. I didn’t want you to feel totally emasculated by a woman who’s more than a foot shorter than you.”

  “Dammit, I’m serious, Constance.”

  She puffed her cheeks as she blew out a protracted breath, then answered, “I know you are. But I’m serious too. I can take care of myself and you know it. Besides… This is all just speculation at this point. I’m not even sure there’s a cover-up, but even if there is, there have been too many agents involved before me, and they’re all still alive and kicking. If there’s a danger in this, it will most likely be to my career, not my life.”