by Tom Hansen
“Just a suspicious bug in the back of my brain. Now if you don’t have time to investigate Sam’s disappearance, then I would like to head up a posse to search Jackson’s ranch from cover to cover. I just want a search warrant.”
“You stay away from Roy’s place! Do you hear me, Willy? You’re in enough trouble with the law, trespassing and all. I’ll take care of finding Sam just as soon as we wrap up the report on Agnes. Detectives Jones and Harper from the Seminole Bend PD will be assigned to the Agnes Potts’ case, and then I can shift gears.”
“Who’s assigned to Calvin’s case, Chief?” Willy offered with a hint of sarcasm.
“There is no ‘Calvin Case’! It’s a traffic investigation, that’s all.”
“Yeah, right Al.” Willy shook his head and headed back to return the Mercury Bobcat to Gloria. Blood was trickling out from his stitches.
CHAPTER 17
Wednesday, February 10, 1982
12:30 p.m.
O n the way back to the hospital, Willy stopped into the sheriff’s office. Johnny Murphree was at the front desk and things were hopping! The sheriff’s office and Seminole Bend Police Department had never been so busy. The worst crime in the past couple of months was when two kids were caught stealing night crawlers from Pinky’s Bait & Tackle shop. Of course, the worst crime on a nightly basis was never investigated because Roy Jackson’s ranch was off limits to everyone, except maybe God. Willy couldn’t figure out how Roy’s money could buy so much power. He was beginning to think if anyone was going to stop Roy, it would have to be him, and most likely, going at it alone.
“Hey, Johnny. How’s things?” Willy said with a smile.
“Well, I’ll be sun-dried and left to wrinkle! What the hell are you doing here, Willy? I heard you beat the crap outa another gator, but he took a chunk outa one of them scrawny little legs of yours!” replied Johnny. “I thought you were supposed to be in the hospital.”
“Ain’t no chicken shit gator gonna stop me from being the toughest SOB in Seminole Bend County! No make that Florida! No, actually make that the US of A! Oh let’s get it right, the entire planet Earth!”
“Yeah, you must be okay cuz you’re still full of it! So why the visit? I think if it was me who was hurting, I’d take a few years of long-term disability, buy a new bass boat, and fish my life away.”
“Just wanted to ask you a few questions, Johnny. Were you working this morning when Calvin Potts had his accident?”
“Sure was. Sad thing, he had just left my desk, headed out to his Chevy Nova, backed up then started down the service road, and bang it was over. I ran out but the whole road looked like a nuclear war was raging.”
“Are you saying that Calvin stopped in to the sheriff’s office before the accident? Why was he here?”
“Calvin called me this morning when he was about to go fishing and found out his boat was missing from the dock. I told him to come down and I’d take the report here because all the boys were down at Angler’s Delight trying to find out what happened to you yesterday. Ken Belop checked in for work a couple of minutes later, so I sent him over to Calvin’s place on Taylor Creek hoping he could catch Calvin before he left. He missed him, but it was Ken who found Agnes in bed. Poor lady.”
“What kind of boat was Calvin missing?”
“Who the hell cares about the damn boat, Willy!? Both Potts are dead and you’re thinking about the boat? Shoot, man, that’s a little sick, wouldn’t you say!?”
“Johnny, if you have the report, just tell me what his boat looked like and the plate number.”
“It was a silver Alumicraft with a twenty-five horse Johnson motor. You know, they all look alike. Just a tin rowboat that won’t scare the fish.”
“What was his plate number?”
“Let’s see, okay, here it is: JL 4106 FL.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Not if you die from blood loss, Willy. Look at the floor. You been dripping hemoglobin all over our shiny linoleum.” smirked Johnny.
“Shiny floor? The linoleum was dirty the day they laid it, you damn fool! Got to go.” Johnny limped out the door and back to the Mercury Bobcat.
* * * * *
Gloria rewrapped Willy’s leg with a new cloth. The stitches were holding, but just barely. He thanked her for letting him use her car, and then asked for a ride to Bennett’s Airboat Palace to pick up his own car that he left there on Monday. She obliged like any southern girl would do for a stranded human being, especially one of the male sex with rock solid, bulging muscles like Willy’s.
Phil Bennett stared in disbelief when Willy confessed he had totaled out the rented airboat on a rock. Willy promised to pay double the cost if Phil could wait a few months to get paid. Phil had been a fan of Willy’s when Willy played football and basketball at the high school and now he was proud to call the one-time star turned sheriff’s deputy a friend. Of course he would take that deal, anything for a local sport’s icon.
“Not too pleased about losing a quarter of my income for a few months, Willy, but I’ll do it for you and Sam,” remarked Phil while thinking how he was going to get by with only three boats left to rent out. He looked Willy up and down, just now noticing his bandages. “Just glad you and Sam weren’t hurt real bad or nothing. I mean, you weren’t hurt real bad, was ya?” Phil couldn’t afford liability insurance, so he was hoping for the right answer to come out of Willy’s mouth.
“I’m fine, Phil, but I do need to get a move on.” Willy intentionally didn’t mention the condition of Sam McCormick. Phil played poker with the guys on Friday nights and he didn’t want Sam’s disappearance to create rumors among the locals. The boys were bigger gossipers than the ladies.
Willy started up his car and headed back around the dirt road that ran adjacent to the rim canal. As he approached the Taylor Creek locks, he parked his car and hiked up the flight of spiral concrete stairs to the lock operator’s lookout. Inside the tiny room that not only overlooked the locks but provided a great view of Lake Okeechobee, Ernie Hyle was busy brushing the crumbs off his XXXL pants onto the floor from the dozen pieces of Kentucky Fried Chicken he’d just devoured. He caught a glimpse of Willy out of the corner of his eyes and smiled embarrassingly, “Someone’s got to feed them cockroaches. The bigger they are the more attractive they are to the largemouth bass. And they wiggle better on the hook!”
Willy was thinking that Ernie Hyle kind of looked like a different species of largemouth, like a largemouth hippo that just escaped from Africa. “Hello, Ernie. I hope I’m not disturbing your lunch.”
“It don’t appear anybody’s disturbed my lunch in quite some time, wouldn’t you agree, Willy?” the big man answered, smiling while he patted his plump belly with his hands. Willy chuckled at Ernie’s self-inflicted sarcasm.
“Ernie, I’d like to ask you some questions about yesterday.”
“I heard you were injured in a gator fight yesterday, Willy. What’s you doing up and about so soon. Are you actually one of them plastic Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em robots or something?”
“Yeah, might be. Anyway, this may sound like an impossible question to answer, but do you remember seeing a skinny Mexican guy with a long mustache come through the locks yesterday in a fishing boat.”
Ernie paused momentarily to ponder the question, and then slowly began nodding his head as if to say yes. “As a matter of fact, Willy, I do remember a Mexican man come through the locks. I remember because I thought it was strange: the boat he was driving looked just like Calvin Pott’s Alumicraft. It had a twenty-five horse Johnson on it. Calvin comes through these here locks almost every day.”
“Did you get the plate number?”
“Well, I didn’t get a chance to write it down, cuz you see I was doing a bunch of other important stuff. But I think I remember: it started with ‘JL’. That I remember because my car license plate starts that way, too. Then the numbers after the ‘JL’ were 4601, or 4016, or something like that. I can always remem
ber numbers, but I’m a little dyslexic when it comes to remembering which order they come in.
So what’s up, Willy. Do you know this Mexican guy or something?”
“Yep, I think so. You’ve been a big help, Ernie. Oh, by the way, Calvin Potts won’t be coming through your locks anymore. He was killed in a car accident this morning.”
“Oh my God! Was that what them sirens and that big cloud of smoke I saw rising in the distance was all about? Man, what a coincidence that we was just talking about him and his boat, eh Willy?”
“Yeah, Ernie. Quite a coincidence.”
Willy walked back down the stairs and in to his car. The police scanner was beeping, blinking and crackling with static. Then he heard his name called. “Willy. This is Johnny Murphree. What’s your twenty? Can you come down to the station quick?”
“I can be there in ten minutes. What’s up, Johnny?”
“Just come down. I’ll tell you when you get here. Over.”
CHAPTER 18
Wednesday, February 10, 1982
2:00 p.m.
W illy turned left on to US 98 and headed west towards the intersection of US 441 that would take him back through town. After making the right turn onto 441, he noticed in the rear view mirror that a black Lincoln Continental was several cars back. Willy remembered that exact same black Lincoln was parked under a palm tree in the parking lot at Bennett’s Airboat Palace. Willy had a sneaking suspicion that the black Lincoln belonged to none other than Roy Jackson.
Traveling at forty miles per hour, Willy made a sharp right turn and squealed tire rubber as he pulled into the BoldMart Shopping Plaza, and sure enough, the Lincoln followed him. Willy stopped his car in a slot that needed its lines repainted. Standing nearby were several people talking about something and shaking their heads while covering their mouths with their hands. No doubt they heard the news about Calvin or Agnes Potts, or both. In a small town, everyone knows everyone, including the snowbirds.
Willy reached under the passenger seat and grabbed a holster with a loaded Beretta pistol. He didn’t like guns and just hoped his gargantuan biceps would do the trick and scare potential villains away. He opened his door, stood up and strapped on the holster, and then limped the best he could directly to the Lincoln that had parked about fifty yards behind him. When the Lincoln’s driver saw Willy coming, he tried to back out but was blocked in by a string of cars that had just entered the parking lot. Willy didn’t figure he had to worry too much about someone shooting at him or trying to mess with him. He could see a whole bunch of curious potential witnesses wondering why a sheriff’s car just sailed into the BoldMart lot like it was an Indy pit stop. Willy marched right up to the Lincoln driver’s window and pounded on the glass with his huge fist. The driver scanned his rear view and side mirrors looking for options to get away, but he refused to open the window. The dark smoked glass kept Willy from seeing who or how many people were in the big expensive car.
Willy knocked one more time, but didn’t wait long to see if he was going to get a response. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, wrapped it around his fist, cocked his elbow and smashed the glass window almost back into the sand from which it came! Shattered glass shards flew all around, but mostly in the lap of the startled driver. Willy noticed a well-dressed, ornery-looking male passenger in the front seat and one in the back who quickly deposited something into a hand bag he was carrying. All three men looked shocked.
“Hi boys. You gents looking for a BoldMart Daily Special or something? I can tell by the looks of your automobile that you ain’t got much money so I suppose you’re headed into BoldMart for a great deal on something, right? Though I’m not sure they sell machine gun bullets here. Say, don’t I remember you boys from somewhere? Could swear you look like the welcoming committee over at Roy Jackson’s ranch.”
The driver leaned back to keep a safe distance from Willy’s bear-sized biceps, but the man in the back seat moved closer. “You’re a dead man, Willy Banks.” He then reached into his bag to pull out the pistol he had just placed in it, but Willy was too quick. He reached in through the broken window, grabbed the driver around the neck with both hands, and then yanked with awesome force, jerking the man forward and through the jagged glass. Both Willy and the driver tumbled to the ground, but Willy manhandled him over on to his glass impaled belly and clamped his biceps under the stunned man’s chin. He then stood up, using the terrified driver as his shield.
Willy’s new cloth bandage around his leg was soaking up blood again, but that was nothing compared to the driver’s cuts and scrapes up and down his body. In the car, the armed gunman sitting in the back climbed over the seat to the front and cranked the ignition. He slammed the transmission into reverse and gunned the accelerator, ramming a wide seam between two cars that had moments before been bumper to bumper. However, the front end of one car clipped an old man who was pushing his shopping cart loaded with citrus fertilizer and hadn’t noticed the commotion. The man tried to steady himself with the shopping cart, but just then the Lincoln smashed its rear fender into the wire buggy, sending the man reeling to the ground and pinning his cart on top of him. The Lincoln reversed course and sped out of the parking lot in a dust storm.
Willy pushed the Lincoln’s driver to the ground to help out the old man who was now unconscious. The driver quickly got up and ran like the dickens trying to catch up with his buddies, but they weren’t about to stop, so he sprinted across the road and disappeared into the palm-forested residential area of southwest Seminole Bend.
Willy lifted the shopping cart off of the old man and brushed away the fertilizer that had spilled through a rip in the bag and onto the man’s t-shirt. Willy grabbed the old man’s wrist and checked for a pulse. Nothing. He put his ear up to the man’s nose to check for breathing. Nothing again! Willy yelled at a couple of startled passerby’s who had witnessed the entire incident and now stood there like statues with their mouths wide open, “Call for an ambulance! Hurry!”
The couple both ran for the entrance to BoldMart while Willy tore the old man’s t-shirt to shreds and began administering CPR. Because all the rescue vehicles were on location either at Calvin Pott’s car accident scene, or Agnes’ murder, it took the ambulance twenty-five minutes to arrive. Willy had given it his best shot, but the old man was dead before the EMT’s pulled into the parking lot. The coroner would subsequently rule the cause of death as massive heart failure.
In Willy’s mind, Roy Jackson was now a mass murderer! Sam, Calvin, Agnes and now the old man in the Bold Mart parking lot were all killed by Roy’s disciples. How many others had suffered or died so Roy’s illicit business dealings could thrive? Willy assumed Roy was a drug dealer, but he had no concrete proof. Maybe it was weapons that were being dropped from the small aircraft onto his swamp. Willy was bound and determined to find out what exactly Roy was involved in.
Willy got back into his car and headed to the sheriff’s office. Had Johnny Murphree not summoned him to come quickly, perhaps the old man would still be alive. Had Willy ignored the Lincoln that he saw in his rear view mirror, surely it would have gone elsewhere when Willy arrived at the station. Had Willy not been so aggressive and approached Roy’s bandits in the parking lot, the whole mess would never have happened. Willy wiped away the tears and tried to think of something else, but that was impossible. On the road to the sheriff’s office, Willy vowed justice . . . or if that didn’t work, he vowed revenge.
* * * * *
Willy limped into the sheriff’s office, blood again seeping from the bandage on his leg. Sweat and dirt covered his face and clothes, and the huge man could easily have been mistaken for the feared Swamp Creature in the next Disney flick. Johnny dashed around his desk and helped Willy to a chair.
“Dang, Willy, I heard the 911 call through the hospital scanner for an ambulance. Some employee dude who was gathering up shopping carts out in the parking lot at BoldMart called it in. He was frantically describing the scene, you know, cars crunched and
people injured. I knew it was you out there! The guy said a black giant cop with arms like an elephant’s trunk yanked some poor bastard right through his windshield, and while they was rolling on the ground, a Cadillac smashed a couple of cars and run right over some old man and his shopping cart.”
“It was a Lincoln, not a Caddy, and it belonged to Roy Jackson. I am an eyewitness to a voluntary manslaughter slaying. Write that fact down now on a piece of paper and I’ll sign it Johnny, and then lock the paper up in a safe. In case I don’t see you again, that paper can launch an investigation, as long as you give it to the FBI and not to Sheriff Bonty.”
“Whoa, calm down, Willy. I don’t know where you’re going with the Sheriff Bonty thing, but I don’t want to be no part of insubordination.”
“Insubordination hell, Johnny! Sheriff and Roy are in cahoots and nobody in this here town is safe with that combination. Now what the hell did you want me to come down here for?”
“Just before I called you, Elmer Hudster called from his hardware store. Said some big fella he didn’t know must have slipped and fallen in his bathroom and hit his head on the sink. Blood was gurgling from his nose and he thought the guy was dead. I sent Toby over to investigate, but with all the crap going on today, I thought you might like to know.”
“Has Toby called you back?”
“Not yet. But I can’t leave cuz nobody’s left to mind the station.”
“I’ll check it out.” Willy was out the door so fast he probably forgot his leg was only half attached.
CHAPTER 19
Wednesday, February 10, 1982
3:30 p.m.
W illy pulled into the handicapped parking spot in front of Elmer’s Hardware Store. There was no doubt in Willy’s mind that he himself was a wee bit handicapped right now. He opened the door and managed to get his upper body out of the front seat, but his injured leg wasn’t exactly cooperating. Willy finally limped into the hardware store.