by Ace Collins
Lije led the way to the counter and sat on a padded green stool. Curtis picked the red-topped one on his right. They had barely landed when the owner sprinted out from the tiny kitchen to greet them.
“What’ll it be, folks?”
Curtis looked at the menu on the back wall, but Lije was ready. “I’ll take the burger basket, plain and dry on the burger, and give me a Coke.”
The owner appeared a bit put off with the choice. “You don’t want anything on the burger? No mustard or mayo? Or maybe a pickle?”
“Nope, just the meat and bread.”
“Sounds dull to me.” He turned to Curtis. “And for you?”
Curtis shrugged. “Same, but I want everything on the burger.”
“Much better choice. It’ll be up in a few minutes.” With that he rushed back to the kitchen.
“Want to bowl a game? ” Lije asked as he turned his stool around toward the lanes.
“I’m not any good,” Curtis admitted.
“Who said I was? ” Lije grinned. “Just thought you might welcome a chance to get your mind on something else.”
Curtis didn’t answer. Instead, without even excusing herself, she got up and headed toward the restrooms. With nothing else to do, Lije watched the two couples on the lane. They weren’t any good, but they sure did look as if they were having fun. They laughed whether their rolls brought a strike or a gutter ball. Kaitlyn had liked to bowl and she wasn’t any good either.
They should have bowled more. There were a lot of things they should have done more. Suddenly the fun that had seemed so infectious faded, replaced by hopelessness. He had been too busy, left too much undone. Way too much had been lost.
The man at the counter got up and temporarily obstructed Lije’s view of the game. “Excuse me,” the man said as he passed.
“No problem,” Lije replied.
“You know, you look familiar. You from around here?”
“Salem. Lije Evans.”
“Collins. I’m from out of state. Up here doing some fishing. Hope you don’t mind me saying this, I mean it’s none of my business, but you seeem to be kind of down.”
“Tough times,” Lije said. He glanced up at the man. “You know … you look familiar too…. I know, you were at a car show in Texas last year. You had a—”
“Thirty-four Auburn.”
“That’s it. Great car.”
“I remember you too. You had an incredible Cord. Your wife was there too, right? I could never get a woman to come to a car show with me.”
“I was blessed,” Lije said.
“Did you lose the car?”
“No, I still have it. My wife died.”
The stranger shook his head. “Tragic. She was so young. Now I understand your sadness. What happened?”
This time Lije whispered, “She was murdered.”
“No. Any idea who did it?”
“Don’t know the who or the why.”
Collins patted Lije on the shoulder. “Sorry. You’ll catch a break soon…. Hey, if you ever need to talk … about anything, cars or anything else, let me give you my number.” He pulled a receipt out of his pocket, bent over the bar, and scribbled down his number. As he handed it to Lije, he added, “Good luck, man.”
LIJE TOOK THE PHONE NUMBER FROM COLLINS, forced a smile, and nodded.
Collins tossed some cash down on the counter and walked out.
Just then the owner brought out two baskets filled to overflowing with crinkle-cut fries and bun-encased meat patties. “Here you go. Can I get you anything else?”
“Not right now,” Lije replied.
“How ’bout some mustard for the burger?”
“Nope.”
“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be over organizing the shoes. It’s league night tonight. Starts at seven.”
Lije nodded and watched as the man seemed to bounce toward an area behind the cash register. How could someone that old have that much energy? Picking up the burger, he turned his attention to his hunger. And he was hungry. It was the first time he had really been hungry since the night Kaitlyn died. The burger even tasted good. It was the first time he had actually enjoyed food since the apple pie.
“Well, I see you waited for me,” Curtis said.
“He who hesitates is lost. Hey, by the way, I thought you were supposed to protect me. You left me all by myself.”
“I’m beginning to believe that your days of hiding are over. I think the ABI will soon free you to your own devices.”
“No offense, but I’m looking forward to that day.”
“No offense taken, and so am I.”
They ate in silence. The burgers were good, even better than those at the 63 Drive Inn, which he rated the best in the world.
He was finishing his last few fries when the bowlers completed their final game. He watched them as they put on their street shoes and walked away from the lane.
“Must be regulars,” he noted.
“What makes you say that? ” Curtis asked.
“They have their own shoes, balls, and bags.” The two couples wandered to the far wall and fiddled with the combinations on two lockers. After opening them, they slid their equipment in and closed the doors. “Yep, they’re regulars all right.”
“You ready to go?”
“Sure,” Lije replied. “This one’s on me.” He got up, took a last sip of his drink, and headed toward the cash register.
The owner turned his attention from the shoes to Lije. “Can I get you all anything else?”
“No,” Lije said, handing the man a twenty. “What you brought us was great.”
The owner glanced at the bill and then the ticket. “Thanks. Don’t get many folks who come in here just for the food. Most eat between games. That’ll be ten-oh-seven, out of a twenty.”
As the owner retrieved the change, Lije turned and glanced toward the mint green lockers. They appeared to be much newer than anything else in the building.
“Here’s your change,” the owner announced.
Reaching for the money, Lije nodded his head toward the wall behind him. “Do many folks rent lockers? I notice those two couples have their own.”
“More than you’d probably expect,” the owner said. “The rent’s cheap, especially if you pay a year or more at a time, and the regulars don’t like taking their gear home. After all, this is the only place most of them ever bowl. Would you like to rent one? I’ve got several vacant right now.”
The sales pitch. “No, not really.”
“They’re real nice. Let me show one to you. I had them installed just three years ago. They’re practically new. You’ll be surprised how deep they are.” He quickly walked over to the far wall and adjusted the numbers on the four dials of the first unit. “This one’s mine.”
Not wanting to seem rude, Lije followed and looked inside. “Very nice.”
“Like I said, put these in about three years ago. You know, some folks use them like the lockers at bus depots. You could open at least a dozen and not find a single thing that had to do with bowling. They’re fireproof. Cheaper than a safe-deposit box. Put your hand on them. Give a strong rap. They’re solid.”
“Lije, we need to hit the road, now,” Curtis said.
“Guess you’re right,” he answered.
And somewhere in Lije’s brain, a connection was made. Melbourne. Numbers. The coat.
Turning back to the man, he said, “You know, when I was a kid they had combination locks down at the post office. I used to try to see if I could spin the dial and open one.”
Curtis marched over to his side. “That would be a federal crime. Now let’s get moving.”
“Never got one open. Still, might be fun to try it one more time.”
Walking down a few lockers, Lije knocked on three or four units before zeroing in on number seventeen. He was enjoying the show.
“Two. Always liked two. It was on my uniform when I played Little League baseball down at Preacher Roe Park.” He
dialed the number two on the first wheel of the lock. “Seven. A lucky number, right? ” He spun the second dial to seven.
As he continued to play his little game, the bowling alley owner and Curtis looked on as if he had gone crazy. Even though it was obvious neither appreciated his performance, he added exaggerated moves to display even more showmanship.
“In the third slot on this four-wheel device, I’m going to pick … the start of summer, June. That would be six. Finally, because I have no other numbers on the tip of my tongue, I’ll go with the days in a normal work week. Another seven.”
“Five,” Curtis corrected him.
“Ah, yes.” He laughed. “Just checking to see if you were being observant.”
After spinning the final dial to five, he glanced at his audience. While their eyes remained glued on him, he sensed the spotlight would soon be turned off, unless, of course, he could come up with a thrilling finale.
He was sure he had one. “Voila, the door opens.”
With a flourish, Lije pulled the locker door open.
Curtis and the owner stood staring, mouths open.
Bowing, Lije added, “Well, that never worked before.”
Sitting in the locker was a battered shoe box.
“HOW DID YOU DO THAT? ” THE OWNER DEMANDED.
“I knew the combination. Who rents this locker?”
The man shook his head. “I can’t tell you,” he said, slamming the locker shut. “There’s a privacy agreement that goes with each rental.”
“Diana, show him your badge?”
Curtis reached into her pocket and presented her credentials. The owner looked at the card, then at her face, and hurried back to the other side of his cash register. He pulled a book from a shelf and placed it on the counter. He quickly thumbed through a few pages. After spotting the right one, he ran his right index finger down the page to guide his eyes. He stopped at number seventeen. “R. Smith. He didn’t leave a phone number or an address. And though I’d never seen him before, I remember him well. He’s the only person I know who bought a lifetime lease. That’s five hundred dollars. And he paid in cash. I wasn’t going to argue with that.”
“When did he rent it? ” Lije asked.
The man didn’t have to look back at the book. “Just over two years ago.”
Lije glanced over at Curtis as he held up his hands in a gesture that indicated well.
“Okay,” she replied, “I get the name. But how did you know the combination and the locker number?”
“The coat.”
“Which coat?”
“When you picked up the coat at the diner, the one you thought was mine, it had what you assumed was a cleaning number written inside one of the pockets. That number was 2765-17. Do you have the sketches of the two men Jennings claimed he met? Perhaps they’re on your laptop?”
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you get your computer from the car and see if—” Lije looked back at the owner. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“It’s Joe Martin.”
“See if Mr. Martin recognizes the two men. Also, you might want to bring in your kit. Since the only thing in that locker is a shoe box, I’m betting it belonged to Moony Rivers.”
Retrieving the needed items from the car, Curtis booted up the computer and located the images. As soon as the first one came up on the screen, Joe Martin almost yelled, “Yeah, that looks like the one who did all the talking. I think he’s a bit fleshier than that picture, though.” She clicked on the second image. As it filled the screen, Martin nodded his head. “That’s the other one. What did they do?”
“We’re not sure,” Curtis said, “but the contents of that locker might be very important.”
Rubbing his hands together, Lije smiled. “Let’s take a look.”
“Can’t just yet,” Curtis replied. “I called Hillman while I was getting my laptop from the car. A warrant’s on the way. I want to make sure we do this in such a way that no sharp attorney can make the case we didn’t follow procedure.”
Lije was incredulous. “You called Hillman?”
“I had to.” Curtis sounded apologetic. “In matters of finding new evidence for a case, I have to follow a chain. He is the link on the chain that I must report to.”
“How long will it take for him to get here with the warrant?”
“Not more than half an hour,” she replied.
“And how long will it take him to erase all the information needed to get Heather out of jail?”
Curtis ignored the remark and turned to the bowling alley manager. “Mr. Martin, what do you have in the way of desserts?”
“I’ve got some Yarnell’s Angel Food Ice Cream.”
“Sounds great. You want some Lije?”
“Yeah, double scoop,” Lije said bitterly. “And I’ll eat mine at the bench in front of the locker.”
Curtis nodded. “Guess I will too.”
“Do you mind if I join you? ” Martin asked.
“As long as you don’t touch anything,” Curtis said.
The only thing Lije could think was that the truth was so close and they had called in the only man who seemed to have nothing to gain and everything to lose from the truth.
“GOOD TO SEE YOU, BARTON,” CURTIS SAID AS the ABI director walked through the double doors of the bowling alley. “I was beginning to wonder if you had taken the long way around to get here.”
“The judge was busy,” the director explained. “It took me a bit longer than usual to get the warrant. It was just lucky I had to be in Batesville. It was an easy drive over.”
Though trying to act normal, Curtis was seething, her anger boiling like a summer storm. Why was he holding out on her?Now would be the perfect time to fill her in, but nothing. She hoped he would pull her to one side to talk, but no, he just handed her the warrant. That was it. She took the paper from his hand, briefly showed it to Joe Martin, then donned her latex gloves and went to work.
She felt betrayed, and for the first time since she joined the ABI, she was having problems focusing on case work. She opened the locker and carefully examined the inside walls before even glancing at the box.
“No prints in the locker, but that’s not surprising. They’ve wiped everything they’ve touched so far.”
Martin, who was watching her work, said, “I remember Mr. Smith wore leather gloves. He also had a rag that he used to wipe out the locker. His friend said he was a germ freak.”
“More like an identity freak,” she noted. “Barton, you think this connects to anything else we’re working on?”
“Doubt it.”
Was he that dishonest? She’d lobbed him an easy one. How she wanted to blurt it out, slam him with what she knew, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. It’d be like running a knife through her hero. There’s got to be a reason. There just has to be!
She looked inside the locker. “Lije, you were right. The only thing in here is a shoe box.”
After pulling the well-worn Nike container from the locker, she set it on a counter top she had already treated and covered in preparation for the examination. Lifting up the lid with a gloved finger, she peeked in. “A few very old baseball cards, some family photos, and under them, a bit of cash, but not much. I’d guess just a few hundred.” She carefully pulled the items out, cataloging and shooting photos of each before extracting several twenties and two one hundred dollar bills. “The only other thing is an unmarked DVD. It’s in a plastic case.”
She looked over to the ABI lab tech, who had just arrived. Theodore Mitchell, six-foot and 280 pounds, was the agency’s top video geek. “Bear, have you got your laptop with you?”
Mitchell nodded and patted his briefcase.
“Good. I’ve got a DVD you need to pop in and take a look at.”
Mitchell quickly moved over to a table, pulled a Mac Pro out of a hardshell case, popped it open, and waited for it to boot up. As it did, he hooked up a portable external hard drive through the firewire port. When his
desktop appeared, he started up a video program he had designed and was now being used by law enforcement departments all over the world.
“Has the disc been dusted for prints? ” he asked.
“None there,” Curtis replied, “but still pick it up with gloves.”
Mitchell grabbed a pair from his case, snapped them on, and retrieved the DVD. He started to slip it into the computer, then stopped. “Diana, would you all give me a few minutes to study this thing by myself?”
She nodded. Lab techs liked to work on their own, then make a presentation. When Bear felt it was showtime, he’d call them over. To Lije she said, “Let’s give him some room. It won’t take him long.”
Lije nodded, but rather than following her, he moved to the counter and took a seat. She wasn’t surprised. When she called her boss in, Lije must have felt betrayed. But she had no choice. She had to deal with protocol. Rules were rules and they had to be followed. Still, having Lije now distrust her created a pain she hadn’t bargained for. Lord, she hated getting emotionally involved. Though she had to admit this was the most complicated case she had ever worked on.
Curtis walked over to Hillman. “Let me catch you up on what’s going on.”
She explained what they’d found in Mountain View, at the trailer and at the lumber yard. Throughout her point-by-point recap, she dropped numerous opportunities for the director to provide her with the information on the bullet, but he remained mute on the subject. He wasn’t going to cave.
“Interesting,” Hillman said, “but where do you suppose Evans got the idea to go to Mountain View? How did he know about Moony Rivers? And why did you agree to it? You should’ve cleared it with me first.”
She shrugged. “This area’s all interconnected in one way or another. In these small towns, people are pretty much tied together.” She paused, then lied. “I’m guessing it might have been something he heard from Micah Dean’s widow. It might be tied to the Jennings case.”