Risky Undertaking

by Mark de Castrique

  “Go on, child,” Emma said. “Tell them what you told me.”

  Skye licked her thin lips. “I thought Eddie had found Swifty and come back for him. Maybe that was a condition Swifty wanted. Not to be seen. Not wanting his friends to think he went crying to Jimmy’s. But when I heard Eddie was dead, I thought more was going on. Eddie wasn’t Jimmy. He wasn’t as confrontational. But he’d gotten into something over his head.”

  Skye turned to me. “I saw that roll of duct tape on Jimmy’s shelf Monday. It was there yesterday morning when Emmama and I went through his things.” She looked at Romero. “You came by after Eddie yesterday afternoon so I walked back up to make sure everything was locked up. The duct tape was gone. I thought you’d taken it.”

  “Now what do you think?” I asked.

  “That Eddie used it to bind Swifty until he could return after dark and move him. He must have left him in the outhouse.”

  “And why do you think Eddie got your brother killed?”

  “Because he’d become secretive the last few weeks. I thought he had another girlfriend. Several times I’d walk into a room where he was on the phone and he’d abruptly hang up. Or he’d get calls when we were out and he’d excuse himself to answer.” Tears finally welled in her eyes. “Did he kill Jimmy?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “Sunday night I think he transported Jimmy’s artifact collection from the new casino property to his trailer.”

  “He stole Jimmy’s collection?” Skye asked.

  “No. Jimmy’s collection was never stolen.” I summarized our theory of Jimmy salting the site of the second casino and his alliance with the Catawbas. Emma and Skye listened without interrupting until I got to the part about someone knowing what Jimmy intended to do and leaking the plan.

  Skye began to tremble, clutching her arms across her chest and bending forward to stifle her sobs. “It was Eddie. It had to be Eddie. He used me, Emmama. Used me to bring him to Jimmy.”

  Romero and I sat there, unable to say anything that would ease her grief.

  Emma knelt in front of her granddaughter. “You can’t blame yourself for the evil in another’s heart, child. You trusted him and Jimmy trusted him. Eddie might not have pulled the trigger, but he was worse. He betrayed a friend.” Her face softened. “He betrayed you, Skye. He wasn’t worthy of you.” Her eyes narrowed as she swept her gaze from Romero to me. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

  ***

  “Did you find a cell phone at Eddie Wolfe’s?” I asked the question as soon as we were back in the patrol car.

  “No,” Romero said. “I was just thinking about that.”

  “If the killer took it, he’s concerned either incriminating texts or phone messages might be on it. We should get the number from Skye.”

  “Let’s not,” Romero said. “Remember Emma found the wallet. Who’s to say Skye didn’t meet Eddie after dark?”

  “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  “Doesn’t matter what I believe. With Swifty’s life on the line we have to consider all possibilities. I’ll get the cell number from his employer. Then what?”

  “I’ll give it to Tommy Lee. We don’t need the physical phone to check a call log with the carrier.”

  “Won’t that take days?”

  “I think Tommy Lee’s leaning on his niece at the FBI.”

  Romero laughed. “Hell, the NSA’s probably monitoring the calls as it is. Rooster should ask them.” He pulled the mike from his two-way and instructed his dispatcher to get Eddie’s number.

  Five minutes later, we had the information and I relayed it to Tommy Lee. I also gave him the update on the duct tape and the suspicion that Eddie Wolfe had trapped Danny Swift in the outhouse.

  The sheriff asked me to put him on speaker phone. “Hector, I’m going to bring some soil samples from the site. Would you prepare some from Eddie’s trunk and the artifacts?”

  “You got it. What do you want me to do tonight?”

  Romero and I hadn’t discussed his role at the exchange. Although we were working well together, he would probably be more amenable to an assignment from Tommy Lee.

  “I’ll be in the parking lot of the Bureau of Indian Affairs,” Tommy Lee said. “With night binoculars, I’ll cover the entrance to the bamboo forest used by Kevin. Can you get into a safe and invisible position to watch the other end where Tyrell and the boy should enter?”

  “Yes,” Romero said. “What’s the communication plan?”

  “Since Barry’s going to be inside at the exchange point, I want him in place early. We’re opting for cell phones and earpieces. I can merge you in if you’d like. I don’t want radio chatter.”

  “You got it. Will Barry have night goggles?”

  “No. I don’t want to chance a reflection off the glass. How are you at camo?”

  Romero winked at me. “I’m an Indian, Rooster. Once you see me, it’s too late.”

  “Well, Barry’s not. He’s a funeral director used to standing where he can be summoned on a moment’s notice. I’m bringing him a vest, but help him find something that will make him disappear.”

  Romero glanced at his watch. It was nearly two. “I’ve got just the thing.”

  “Good. Get it to him before five. Barry, that’s when I want to meet you in your hotel room.”

  “You need me there?” Romero asked.

  I started to object. I didn’t want Romero crossing paths with Mack Collins.

  Tommy Lee spoke first. “Not necessary. I’m going over some information from the Gainesboro side of the investigation. In fact, I took the liberty of faxing it to your department. They’re going to hold it in an envelope for me. I’ll pick it up with your soil samples.”

  “Sounds good, Rooster. See you at the station.”

  “All right,” Tommy Lee said. “Barry, I’ll see you in your room at five. And charge your damn phone.”

  ***

  The rap on the door came at five fifty-five. I cracked it open, saw Mack Collins, and motioned him inside. As he passed me, I took a quick look up and down the hall. No one was in sight. I wondered if Mack had come from the elevators or from Frankie Tyrell’s room.

  Behind me, Collins said, “Tommy Lee, Barry didn’t say you’d be here.”

  I closed the door and turned to see Collins stopped at the foot of the bed, hesitant to venture nearer the sheriff.

  Tommy Lee pointed to the chair I’d just vacated. “Sit down, Mack. We have some things to discuss.”

  I walked closer, blocking Collins’ return to the door. Tommy Lee and I had rehearsed how the scene would play. On the coffee table in the small conversation area, he’d laid out the New Jersey newspaper articles and the photo Kevin Malone had taken of Frankie Tyrell outside the Cherokee casino. Facedown was the picture of Danny Swift gagged in the trunk of a car. Tommy Lee would play that card if and when the time seemed right.

  Collins glanced at the table as he moved toward the chair. His step faltered and he grabbed the armrest to steady himself. “Where did you get these?” he hissed.

  “That’s not important,” Tommy Lee said.

  “The hell it isn’t. Darren Cransford would say or do anything to bring me down, even stoop to digging up thirty-year-old dirt. And that’s all it is. I wasn’t convicted of anything.”

  “The way I understand it a key witness went into the dirt.” Tommy Lee tapped the photo of Tyrell. “And this isn’t thirty years old.”

  “I have no idea who he is,” Collins snapped.

  “I have a witness who saw you arguing with him last night. I’m in the process of pulling the surveillance footage now.”

  Collins’ face went red. “Do you have someone following me?”

  “No. But the FBI is following him.” Tommy Lee said the lie easily enough.

  Collins sat. He looked at the documents in
front of him, his eyes lingering on the turned-down sheet of paper. “I have nothing to do with that man.”

  “Which man would that be?”

  “So, this is the way you’re going to play it? Not a conversation but an interrogation?”

  “That depends on you, Mack. If you want to lawyer up, then I’ll have to bring the FBI into it. And you know the death of two Indians who opposed the second Cherokee casino will bring federal scrutiny, particularly when the leading legislative advocate for the project is seen talking with a Boston hit man.” Tommy Lee waved his hand over the documents. “And the New Jersey stories alone are enough to embolden anyone who might challenge you for your seat.”

  Collins seemed to shrink in the chair. “I knew Tyrell a long time ago. I didn’t like him then and I don’t like him now.”

  “You’re denying you brought him down here?” Tommy Lee asked.

  “Of course I deny it. Look, I’m not admitting to any wrongdoing in the past, but I am saying I came to Gainesboro thirty years ago to make a clean start. I’ve done that, and I’ve worked hard for our community and this region.”

  If Collins was telling the truth, a new possibility arose in my mind. “But did they let you?” I asked. “As you became successful, you had more to lose. What did Whitey Bulger and Frankie Tyrell extort from you?”

  At the mention of Whitey Bulger, Collins’ head jerked around. “Nothing. I refused to give them one red cent.”

  Whether that was true or not, Tommy Lee and I didn’t have the resources to delve back through years of the financial records of Collins’ company. But his statement confirmed Frankie Tyrell had tried extortion.

  “Is that why you argued with Tyrell?” Tommy Lee asked. “You thought he’d come here to cut himself in on the casino expansion.”

  “I saw him, I didn’t know why he was here, and I told him to leave. That’s it. End of story.”

  “You’re saying Tyrell wasn’t here for a piece of the action?” Tommy Lee said. “I find it hard to believe you ran into him by coincidence.”

  “Believe what you want.”

  “Then I’ll take your cell phone, please.”

  “What?” Collins puffed himself up with indignation. “You have no warrant, you have no right.”

  Tommy Lee looked at me. I moved closer, better to see Collins’ face.

  “I’m not worried about a warrant.” Tommy Lee leaned over the table and flipped up the photo of Danny Swift. “Not when it involves a child’s life.”

  Mack Collins stared at the image. His jaw dropped and his face paled as if every ounce of blood had drained from his body. “Who is that?” he managed to whisper.

  “You don’t know?” Tommy Lee asked.

  Collins studied Danny’s terrified face. He genuinely seemed confused. When he looked up, I saw fear in his eyes.

  “I have no idea,” he said.

  “A thirteen-year-old boy who witnessed something he shouldn’t have. Your buddy Tyrell has him, and I’m taking your phone so that you have no chance to warn him that we’re coming after him.”

  Collins reached into his suit coat pocket. Tommy Lee and I stiffened.

  He slowly laid a cell phone on the table. “Now I understand why you’re doing this to me.” He pointed to the phone. “You’ll find one call from an unidentified source. It was Tyrell and he said his phone was a prepaid. He came out of the blue.”

  “When?” Tommy Lee asked.

  “Yesterday morning. He told me to meet him at the casino. He had information he was sure I’d be interested in.”

  “What information?”

  “He didn’t say, but that was Tyrell’s code for something he thought I’d pay to keep quiet.”

  “But you didn’t pay before,” I said.

  “I know. Back then I called his bluff. He would gain no advantage by floating some old newspaper stories. I suspect Whitey ordered him to back off and wait till I had something more to lose. Now Whitey’s out of the picture and Tyrell’s greedy. He’s also stupid and arrogant. Thinks he can run some of Whitey’s old operations.”

  Arrogant. The same way Kevin described him.

  “And what more do you have to lose?” I asked.

  “Nothing. That’s why I told Tyrell to leave Cherokee. I used a meeting with the gaming commissioner to explain my presence here.”

  Tommy Lee confiscated the phone. “That doesn’t add up, Mack. With a potential kidnapping and murder charge on the line, why would Tyrell risk bringing you into his game? He hasn’t survived this long being completely stupid.”

  Collins stared at Danny Swift’s photo. “I don’t know. Ask him when you catch him.”

  Senator Eckles’ words resounded in my head. His North Carolina companies.

  “You do have something to lose,” I said. “You have out-of-state companies at play in the bidding.”

  “Do I? That’s news to me.”

  Tommy Lee looked at me with surprise. Melissa Bigham hadn’t gotten back to us with a name or proof linking Collins to any such company. I was flying blind. I wanted to say Senator Eckles had told me so, but Melissa and I had inferred that conclusion from his remark. Eckles had made no such accusation directly.

  “Couldn’t that be Tyrell’s assumption? The revelation of which could both embarrass you and cost you money.”

  “God damn it, I don’t know what Tyrell’s assuming. But I’m telling you my hands are clean.” He pointed to Danny. “And I have nothing to do with this child. I suggest you worry about his safety.”

  I tried a Hail Mary pass as a last resort. “That child’s in a trunk. Can we search your car?”

  “Knock yourself out.” Collins leaned closer to the photograph. “The carpet in my trunk is beige. This is char—”

  He stopped midword.

  “What?” Tommy Lee prompted.

  “It’s charcoal,” he said softly. “Like the lining of Luther Cransford’s Cadillac.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Luther Cransford’s Cadillac. The vehicle he’d driven Sunday night when Jimmy Panther was killed. And now Luther was in Cherokee at the same time Eddie Wolfe was murdered and Danny Swift kidnapped. Had our investigation come full circle and wound up at our original suspect?

  “There are other Cadillacs on the reservation,” Tommy Lee said. “Why would you think this is Luther’s?”

  “I hope it’s not,” Collins said. “Were both the murdered Indians at Eurleen’s funeral?”

  “Yes,” Tommy Lee said. “And Eddie, Jimmy, and Jimmy’s sister Skye came to the site of the Cherokee remains. Luther was there and saw them.”

  “But that doesn’t explain the connection to the boy,” I argued. “Tyrell had to be linked to Eddie Wolfe. If Luther’s involved, what’s his connection to Tyrell? Tyrell was in Cherokee before the funeral protest occurred.”

  “We’re not talking two things here,” Tommy Lee insisted. “I’m convinced it’s one thing and it’s one motive.” He leaned closer to Collins. “Does Luther have something to gain from the construction of the second casino?”

  “Not that I know of,” Collins said. “Not Luther.” His eyes lost focus as some new idea crossed his mind. “Sandra,” he whispered to himself.

  “Sandra Cransford?” I nearly shouted. “What’s a dental equipment company have to do with anything?”

  “Dental equipment?” Collins looked as confused as me. “G. A. Bridges builds bridges and roads. It’s word play on Georgia bridges. You thought it was dental bridgework?”

  “God damn it,” Tommy Lee said. “Reece screwed that up. Why didn’t we double-check?”

  I felt blood rush to my cheeks. “My fault. Wakefield checked her out, but just for her alibi. I didn’t ask him about the business.”

  Tommy Lee sighed. “And we weren’t looking for construction companies at the time.”


  “Her alibi held up and we moved on,” I said. “When you checked on Luther’s claim that Sandra called him at nine thirty last Sunday night, did you pull GPS information on her location?”

  “No,” he growled. “I was focused on Luther.”

  “She could have left Gainesboro at three in the morning and still made her eight o’clock breakfast in Atlanta.” I sat on the edge of the bed, my mind racing. “Does Sandra know Frankie Tyrell?” I asked Collins.

  “I never introduced them.” He paused. “But Tyrell made contact with my daughter at Wellesley. He sent me a picture of him, Cheryl, and Sandra. My daughter and Sandra were roommates.”

  “What kind of picture?” I asked.

  “They were at some Irish pub. Tyrell was sending me a message that he could touch my family any time he wanted.”

  “So, Sandra’s potentially known Tyrell over twenty years,” I said. “How did she get into the construction business? It’s not the kind of career I’d expect of a Wellesley graduate.”

  “She worked summers in my office. All through high school and college. I thought maybe she’d stay with my company since my own children weren’t interested. She said she wanted a bigger city. Gainesboro couldn’t compete with Atlanta.”

  “Where’d she get the capital to launch her business?” I asked.

  “Corrine and I gave her a personal loan. She said other funds came from friends and bank loans. I assumed Luther helped her. She paid us back within five years and I’ve never had any say or input into her company.”

  “Could Frankie Tyrell or Whitey Bulger have been those friends?” I asked. “Could she have laundered money for them? What you refused to do.”

  “Anything’s possible. If they were moving some operations south, Atlanta’s a logical choice.”

  “And if you loaned Sandra money, she could stretch the truth and claim you were involved with her business,” I said. “Senator Eckles seems to have that opinion, and it had to come from someone.”

  “Eckles knows I keep arm’s length from state projects.”

  “Yes. But if Sandra pretended to be your backdoor channel, would he nudge things her way?”