“Which one?” Mathias asked.
“McQueeney handed over his emails, exchanged with his source. It came from an email address that seems like a dummy account of sorts,” Delaney said.
“What is it again?”
“[email protected],” Casper read from the page. “Could just be generic or random.”
“Mathias, you know Ernest best out of all of us. Does that mean anything to you?” Zoe asked.
He shook his head. “No, but let me think.” He darted out of the room and the slam of his office door shook the walls of the conference room.
“Not a quiet thinker,” Casper said.
“Why not just go and talk with Ernest? Keep our hand close for now and just pick his brain about the crime instead. Maybe lean on his old crime-solving days as an excuse for the inquiry?” Delaney asked.
“It’s risky. The man is volcanic if you catch him on the wrong day or even at the wrong moment. He’s a lonely, bitter, old man who has as little interest in human contact as a cockroach,” Zoe said.
Mathias’ door slammed, and he jogged past the door and into the main lobby. The others followed his trail and stood with him in the empty entranceway. Mathias was leaning over Joanne’s desk while she held up one finger in the air at him.
“One second… Okay. Sent. What’s up, y’all? To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Word association game. Ready?”
“Never pegged you as one for games, Mathias, but sure, I’m great at games. When I was a kid, we always played Clue, and it was always a surprise who—”
“Two words. Tell me if there is a connection. Ernest and Hawkeye.”
Joanne almost fell out of her chair from laughing so hard. “Are you serious? That’s the puzzle? Bless your hearts.”
Mathias’ face looked grim. “Explain.”
“Oh, come on. Entertain me a little. I rarely have the upper hand in this office. You all—”
“Explain,” Mathias repeated.
“Zoe, you don’t know the connection either? I can’t fault your friends here since they probably haven’t been privy to one of Ernest’s famous rants. But I expected more out of you.”
“What’s the connection, Joanne?” Zoe pleaded.
“Y’all need to listen when he talks sometimes. I get it. He can drone on for hours. I’ve got an uncle who is much of the same. But Ernest, yeah, he’s got some wild opinions. Now, a lot of them involve things far before my time or things that I have no interest in. He’s old as a stump in the woods, but I still follow some of it.”
“Get to the point, Joanne,” Mathias snarled.
“His favorite topic is re-hashing the issues with the medical issues that they tried to face on M.A.S.H.— You know, the old black and white show? Army medics and all?”
“Get to the—”
“Anybody recall the main character in the show’s name? The hero that was always pulling pranks, making wisecracks, and drinking his ass off?” Joanne continued.
“Let me guess.” Casper stepped in. “Hawkeye?”
Chapter Thirty-One
Casper watched as Joanne took in the surprised faces of the park staff. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Wish I had a prize for you, dear!”
Mathias glared at Joanne, then looked to Zoe. “That firms up your evidence a bit.”
“Evidence?” Joanne asked. She clutched at her chest like she wore pearls. “What has Ernest gone and done this time?”
Casper stepped off to the side and nudged Delaney to follow. Once far enough away from the others, he whispered. “Tell me if I’m overthinking this but, this all could be a red herring.”
“How so?” Delaney asked.
“Each domino that has fallen has led us right to Ernest. What if he’s just a patsy? Somebody framed to look guilty.”
“He’s got two strikes against him, Casper,” Delaney whispered. “The shift schedule and the email both point towards him. Nothing points anywhere else.”
“Fine, I’ll hold off until something else comes along. Let’s see if Ernest has an explanation, anyway.”
When they rejoined the group, Zoe had her hands on her hips. “A red herring?” she asked. “This room echoes like a cave. You didn’t need to protect me. I can handle it.”
Casper turned red. “I was just-”
Zoe shook her head. “Likely story. A little faith would go a long way here, Casper Kelly. Especially when you’re trying to win my approval.”
He sighed. “I’m a skeptic. That’s my lean. Until the pieces all fit together, I question everything. Delaney and I had our share of disagreements during our last case. There’s a benefit to having multiple minds on a case.”
Zoe glared in his direction. “I’m just not sure that we’re dealing with that sophisticated of a criminal, Casper,” she said.
Joanne gasped. “Criminal? Y’all did not say a lick about this being related to a criminal. My oh my.”
They all ignored her. “Either way, it feels like enough to ask Ernest some questions,” Zoe said. She turned to Mathias. “That okay with you, sir?”
He nodded. “I support it. But I’m coming with you just in case. If I hired a criminal, I’d like to be the one to put the cuffs on him.”
The oak door shook in its frame as Zoe rapped her knuckles against it. The entire house shook like a strong wind could blow it over. Casper listened for movement on the other side. Nothing but a ticking clock. Mathias tried the knob himself and then signaled toward the side of the house.
“Let’s try the back door,” He whispered. “His personal car is in the drive. He should be here.”
The back deck of the house had seen better days. The maroon paint that once covered the boards had worn and chipped away. There was more wood than paint now. A grimy glass table with three chairs around it sat in the middle of the deck. An old umbrella with a film of pollen sat in the center, collapsed since World War II, by the looks of it. Zoe and Mathias peered into the rear windows while Casper and Delaney stood to the side next to a woodpile in the back of the yard.
“See anything?” Mathias asked.
“Doesn’t seem he’s home. He left some lights on, but the TV is off. His bedroom is on the front side, right? I’ve only ever been in this house on a few occasions.”
“Front right corner. I’ll go look.” Mathias pointed towards the backyard. “Look for a hide-a-key. We may need to step in. If not, I can get the spare from the office, but let’s save that as a last resort.”
He rounded the corner and Casper watched as his feet sunk into the wet soil that bordered the foundation of the home. He followed the instructions and scanned the backyard for anything out of the ordinary. The first few stones he turned over were actual rocks. One turned out to just be a dirt clod. Delaney walked towards the property line as it shifted from grass into the leafy forest floor. A woodpile sat to the side of the yard. Something blue caught Casper’s eye.
He moved a log and placed it on the ground. Delaney joined him and looked at the hiding spot. She let out a sigh.
“What?” Casper asked.
“Strike three,” she said. “Zoe, come look at this.”
Casper removed the folder from the woodpile and handed it to Zoe when she arrived. She scanned through it, her eyes growing wide at each turned page. “What the…”
Mathias jogged around the bend and joined the group as well. He looked up at the others. “Did you find something?”
Zoe looked up; tears had welled up in her eyes. She nodded. “We’re going to need to find Ernest. And call Detective Russo too.”
“What’s that there?” Mathias asked.
“It’s a folder.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And?”
Zoe extended it his way. “Casper found it on the log pile.”
“What’s inside?”
“Background information on a man. And a photo of him,” Casper said.
“McQueeney?”
Zoe shook her head. “Wade Buchanon.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Andy blew his whistle and watched the JV team mix with the Varsity team like younger brothers meeting their older siblings at the park. The height and skill advantage was apparent for any onlooker. There was no way to coach around that. He waved to the head coach, two pinches deep in his snuff and lost to the world. Andy jogged down towards his car. The old tin can started up on the second try after giving Andy a heart attack by sputtering out on the first.
He blazed out of the parking lot with the spirit of a man in a drag race. Within ten minutes, he was back at Cedar Pointe Condominiums. He oriented himself as he walked each hallway of the 700 building. The first floor had all units in the single digits. 707. 709. 701. Andy sprinted up the side staircase, turned right and followed the numbers on the doors, but met a dead end. He turned back past the staircase and found 712 stuck in the corner next to 717. Some numbering system.
Andy knocked on the door and put his ear against it. Nothing. Not even a slight movement. He slammed his palm against the door and yelled Kyle’s name. Still nothing. A neighbor’s blinds flittered open and somebody glared out at him. He faked a smiled at the onlooker and went back to the parking lot. Kyle’s car hadn’t moved. The parked car was a much more ominous sign than at first glance. Shit. What if he’s dead in there?
Andy followed the sidewalk around the rear of the building and saw that each unit had a balcony and back deck. With his finger, he counted up and over units to deduce which was Kyle’s. The sun began its descent over the horizon. Runners and walkers milled about on the paved trail below that wrapped around the algae-infested lake. He took two extra trips around the front of the building to double-check. Once he was sure that 712 was the second balcony up toward the end, Andy climbed.
The first-floor balcony was slippery from plants that were still dripping wet. Andy stood on the top railing and reached for the baseboard of the deck overhead. His legs ached from the late-night run, but he ignored the pain. The thin boards weakened his grip, but he could pull himself up, all the while cursing himself for his lack of recent upper body workouts. He swung his left foot up like a rock climber and wedged it between the bottom of the railing and the boards on the deck. He glanced back down at the ground.
Right next to the sidewalk, the less-than-helpful elderly couple from earlier, John and Margaret, were out on a walk. They stared in shock as they watched Andy’s cliff-hanging climb up onto the balcony. Andy flashed a smile at them and looked out toward the lake. “He lives lakeside. Thanks for your help!” He shouted.
The Scottish Terrier barked back in its familiar growling melody. He didn’t turn to see their reactions. Two minutes later, he brushed himself off on what he hoped was Kyle’s back deck. A circular glass patio table sat with two green flimsy plastic chairs facing the lake. Two plants, or the remains of oft-forgotten plants, hung from the overhead rafters. A flipped over mountain bike sat parked atop its handlebars next to a small exterior closet with chipped paint. He looked back down out on the lake. Nice view. Not half bad.
A large glass window and screen door led into the main living area. Andy cupped his eyes and looked into the room. Old newspapers and books covered a tan sofa. A video game controller sat in the center of the coffee table that stood in front of a flat-screen TV. In the distance, Andy could see a kitchen table with stacks of books and Kyle’s backpack on top of it. One chair laid sideways on the ground, but nothing else was out of place. Andy reached for the handle of the screen door.
It slid open and Andy stepped inside. Security clearly wasn’t the chief concern of residents on the second floor. After all, what kind of maniac is going to climb in through the back porch. He surveyed the room for a carton of cigarettes that could help calm his nerves, but nothing was in sight. Me. I’m the maniac.
The rank smell of a room in desperate need of a vacuum and wipe down overwhelmed his senses. The scent reminded Andy of his frat house in college. Stale beer and microwaved food. Ramen noodle wrappers sat on the counter. The sink was full of grimy dishes, piled up like a homemade game of Tetris. Better than a dead body, right? He crept toward the hallway. What if I’m disturbing a crime scene? What if I frame myself? Isn’t that how all this works? Down, down I go.
Andy stepped into the hallway and saw there were three doors. All shut. He put his ear to each of them. Nothing. Not a sound. With a sigh, he started with the door at the end of the hallway. He turned the knob and edged it open. No light snuck out from inside. As he swung it all the way open, it relieved him to find a tiny, messy bathroom with a towel that looked damp. He put his fingers on the toothbrush. Damp. Somebody’s been here.
Back in the hallway, Andy opened the door to his right with great caution. He tiptoed his way into the doorframe. A queen-sized bed sat in the middle of the room, made with military precision. Two pillows that had no impressions on them sat atop the mattress. No signs of life. Like something out of a still-life painting of a hotel room. Just missing the mints on the pillow.
The walls stood bare aside from a wooden clock. The ticking sound of the second hand echoed through the cavernous, empty room. The metronomic sound mirrored Andy’s breath. In and out. In and out. Two windows looked out into the courtyard. As he looked out of them, he saw the old couple with the devilish dog returning from their walk. He considered waving or giving them the finger, but decided against it. He opened the closet but found nothing. No old clothes or storage space filled with leftover crap. But that made sense. Kyle was single. He didn’t have to account for the every-other-weekend swell that two visiting kids provided with all of their crap to take up Andy’s space. The room was barren. Too empty. Maybe he ran for it. Left his car and booked it out of here. Hopped on a train to Mexico. Can’t blame him. Wait, do trains go to Mexico from Raleigh?
Andy left the closet doors open like when his kids used to be afraid of monsters before bedtime. Here, see? There’s nothing in there. I’ll leave it open just in case. As he crept back toward the hallway, something crashed in the living room. He cupped his ear but heard nothing else. He stepped out into the hallway. Turned toward the kitchen. Something heavy crashed into his knees. He fell like a sack of bricks to the floor. His head thumped against the plush, stained carpet. Pain raced through his legs. With his face in the rug, he turned to size up his attacker. They wore a mask that sent shivers down Andy’s spine. What the hell?
Chapter Thirty-Three
The heated discussion on what to do next camouflaged the crunch of gravel under boots. Casper, Delaney, Zoe, and Mathias stood in a circle, hands-on-hips, and argued about the path forward. The clearing of a throat interrupted them. They all turned to see Ernest Henley standing in his driveway grinning at them.
“Did I miss the invite to a party or something? I don’t turn seventy until next fall, y’all.” His eyes turned toward the folder in Mathias’ hands. “What’s that you got there?”
“You didn’t hide it well, Ernest,” Zoe said.
“I didn’t hide anything. What is it? Hand it here.”
Mathias held it tight. “It’s a folder with incriminating evidence that inclines me to put cuffs on you right now unless you start talking.”
Ernest scoffed. “I’ve never seen that before in my life. Where’d you find it?”
“In your woodpile.”
“In my woodpile? That’s the world’s worst hiding spot, Zoe. That makes no sense.”
Casper watched the man’s expression. It was sincere shock. And he had a point. Why would somebody hide something like that in plain sight? Why would he have kept it at all?
“Are you saying you have no idea what this is?” Mathias asked.
“Swear on my life.” He tossed his keys onto the table. “What exactly do you think I did here, Mathias? I’d appreciate it if you just came out and said it instead of pussyfooting around like a—”
“I’m inclined to believe that you are responsible for the recent rash of Bigfoot sightings and the assault on Wade Buchanon.”
Ernest crossed his arms and grinned at them. “Those are some big accusations. Care to explain how you came to this conclusion?”
“There are a few peculiarities, to say the least.”
“You all have been looking into me?”
“We gathered some evidence from the man captured last night in the Bigfoot costume. After looking it over, we decided we had questions to ask you. So, we came here. Then we found this.” Zoe tapped the folder. “Now, it looks an awful lot like you have an early retirement on the horizon. I hear they play old M.A.S.H. reruns in prison at least, Hawkeye.”
Ernest pulled at his beard and looked down. “Look, it’s not… I know nothing about that folder. Nor do I have anything to do with the beating of that man on Saturday.”
“I’d like to point out you didn’t deny your involvement in the Bigfoot hoax.” Casper said.
Ernest shook his head. His face lost color. “It’s not what you think. Look, you’ve got to believe me. Let’s sit down and talk about this. Please.” He motioned toward the chairs on his back deck and then sat. Mathias and the others followed. Casper stood off to the side to have an optimal angle of Ernest’s face throughout the makeshift interrogation.
Mathias pulled the photo of Wade Buchanon out of the folder and placed it in front of Ernest. “Explain.”
Ernest pushed it away. “I’ve got no guilt over what happened to that man. But the other stuff, well, I can explain.”
Zoe glanced at Mathias, then spoke just above a whisper. “Raleigh PD traced the IP addresses of the emails that were received by our recently imprisoned Bigfoot impersonator. All signs point towards your house here, Ernest. Care to explain that?”
Casper admired her bluff. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve believed it without hesitation. He noticed Delaney hide a smile by putting her hand over her mouth. Ernest let out a sigh that could blow down a mountain and then slumped over in his chair. “Ah, shit. That technology bullshit. You can trace anything anywhere these days. That’s why I didn’t want to use it in the first place.” He scraped at his scalp. “But the money-”
Trouble Afoot (Shepard & Kelly Mysteries Book 2) Page 15