by Nat Williams
“Seems like it’d be a hassle to mow around,” Carroll said as he admired the statue while they waited on the porch.
A middle-age woman came to the door and greeted the officers.
“Is this the Foster residence?” Bachelor asked.
“Yeah. You looking for Mel? He’s at work.”
“He has a rental house down the street?”
“Yeah, he has a few places. I wished he’d get rid of ‘em. Nothing but headaches.”
“Do you know if Manny Tucker rented that house?”
“Yeah, up to about six months ago. Then he took off. Good riddance, I say. Our hands were getting sore, squeezin’ the rent out of him every month. He’s like a turnip, only dumber.”
“Any idea where he moved to?”
“Not a clue.”
“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” Bachelor said.
“Sorry I couldn’t help you. Is he in trouble?”
“We just need to talk to him.”
“Well, I hope he’s in trouble. Good for nothing.”
The officers got back in the squad car.
“How do we find the prick?” Carroll said.
“Well, I guess he’s getting mail somewhere. Let’s check with the post office.”
“Makes sense,” Carroll said. “Probably livin’ off the government tit. Gotta have a place to get his checks.”
Minutes later they paid a visit to the postmaster, Myra Castleman. She served up an address. Turns out it was a two-bedroom trailer at the Hampton Motor Court. Soon they were face to face with Ann Gibbens, a thin, attractive woman in her late twenties. She wore hip-hugging jeans, an untucked button-down shirt and had her hair up in a ponytail. Nice look.
Bachelor asked her about Tucker.
“Haven’t seen him in a while. Spent his half of the rent every month on pot and Miller Lite. I got tired of supporting his sorry ass and gave him the boot.”
She reared back and made a kicking gesture. Sure enough, she was wearing boots.
“What’d he do this time?”
“We just need to talk to him,” Bachelor said. “Any idea where he might be?”
“Last I heard he was stayin’ with his buddy, Tommy Foss. He’s got a place right outside town. Head out on Mule Barn Road, past the railroad tracks about a half mile. Yellow-sided house set off the road a bit. There’s a broken-down yellow Pontiac sittin’ in the yard.”
“Thanks,” Bachelor said.
“This fucker’s as hard to find as a virgin in a whorehouse,” Carroll said as they got back in the squad car.
“Yeah. Hope he’s worth the hunt,” Bachelor said. “My hounds are getting tired.”
CHAPTER 24
Tommy Foss’s house was easy enough to find. A yellow-jacket 1973 Pontiac GTO dominated the yard. It was pock-marked with rust, and the trunk was ajar; apparently the vehicle had been rear-ended sometime during its life. It was in danger of being overgrown with weeds.
A buzzing sound grew louder as a shirtless man pushed a lawnmower on the side of the house toward the officers. He approached them then let go of the handle, shutting the motor down. He walked toward the officers.
“Tommy Foss?” Bachelor said.
Foss had a look of annoyance.
“Yeah. Why?”
“We’re looking for Manny Tucker. We heard he might be here.”
“Not anymore. He stayed here a little while, but moved out a couple weeks ago, when my old lady moved back in.”
“Know where he went?”
“Not really. He’s been hanging out with John Jameson. Goes by Jaybird.”
“Yeah, I know Jaybird,” Bachelor said. “You know where he lives?”
“Not sure.”
Bachelor gave Foss his card.
“If you happen to see him, let him know I need to talk to him.”
“Will do,” Foss said as he put the card in his back pocket.
Bachelor and Carroll got back into the squad car.
“How does a prick like this have so many friends?” Carroll said as they drove away.
“I don’t know. But I do know how to find Jaybird.”
Carroll nodded. “Harry Dunbar?”
“Yep.”
Harry Dunbar was a probation officer who worked in the Twenty-Fifth Judicial Circuit, which includes Gilbert County.
“Jaybird just got out of the joint. Maybe a couple of months ago,” Bachelor said. “Bad checks. At least, that was the latest thing. It was in Blunt County, so we didn’t handle it. Harry’ll have his address.”
Bachelor got Dunbar on the hands-free car phone.
“Harry. Frank Bachelor. How’s business?”
“Good. Which means bad. Got plenty of customers. Which means ex-cons.”
“How’s Jaybird doing?”
“He’s kept his nose out of trouble so far. What’s up?”
“We need to pay him a visit. We’re looking for someone staying with him.”
“Let me check,” Dunbar said. “Here it is. Eleven-twenty Brookshire. At the corner of Brookshire and Maple.”
“Thanks, Harry.”
“Always glad to help. You making any progress on the Van Okin case?”
“Two steps forward and one back,” Bachelor said.
“Well, hang in there.”
“Thanks.”
They drove to Jameson’s house and found him sitting in the living room, drinking a beer and watching television.
“What do you want?” he said when the officers walked in. They didn’t need a warrant since he was on parole. “I ain’t done nothing.”
“No one said you did. In fact, Harry Dunbar says you’re doing all right,” Bachelor said. “I may give you a star sticker for your notebook. But I’m a little concerned about the company you’re keeping.”
“What are you talking about? Tuck?”
“Yeah. Is he here?”
“No. Haven’t seen him in a couple days.”
Bachelor looked around and shook his head.
“You’re sure about that? You’re not protecting him, are you?”
“Protecting him? From what?”
Bachelor turned to Carroll and pointed toward the hallway.
“You check that side and I’ll look over here,” he said.
“Hey, what the fuck are you doing?” Jaybird said. “I got my rights.”
“Not until you get off parole,” Bachelor said. “Don’t worry; we’re just looking for Tuck. We’ll be gone before you know it.”
It didn’t take more than a minute for the two officers to determine that Tuck wasn’t hiding in his buddy’s house.
Bachelor handed him his card.
“Do me a favor. Next time you see him, let him know we need to talk to him.”
“No problem.”
“And if I find out you’re lying to us or hiding something, I’ll sick Harry on you.”
“Harry’s a pretty nice guy.”
“Yeah, he’s a great guy,” Bachelor said. “But believe me, you don’t want to be on his bad side.”
“The only side I want to stay on is the one outside jail.”
“That may be the smartest thing you’ve said today. By the way, you aren’t supposed to be hanging around with criminals. Part of your parole terms. I’ll let it slide today, though. I got bigger fish to fry. But keep that in mind.”
The officers got back in the car and headed out. This was beginning to feel like déjà vu all over again, as Yogi Berra would say. Bachelor put out a BOLO on Manny Tucker. Every law enforcement officer in the region would be looking out for their Number One person of interest.
He could run, but he couldn’t hide. At least Bachelor hoped not. Right now, he wasn’t sure whether Manny was running, hiding or just being his shifty self.
CHAPTER 25
Liz Johnson lightly knocked on the door to Frank Bachelor’s office.
“Yes?” Bachelor said.
His secretary eased in and handed him a business card.
“Agent M
unro wants to know if you have a minute,” she said. “Says it could have something to do with the Van Okin case.”
“Sure. Show him in.”
Munro wore a Brooks Brothers suit, complete with silk tie. An American flag pin accented the lapel. Bachelor stood up behind his desk and reached to shake his hand.
“I understand you may have some information for me,” he said, motioning for Munro to take a seat.
“I’m conducting an investigation that involves Dr. Van Okin,” Munro said. “I can’t go into a lot of detail, but it involves financial improprieties. Possible fraud. Obviously the murder you’re investigating puts the case against him on a dead-end road. But others may be involved. I don’t have any idea if the misfortune that befell the good doctor touches my investigation in any way, but it might be a good idea if we work together to some degree.”
“It’s always a good idea to get input from other law enforcement people,” Bachelor said. “I mean, as long as they don’t get in each other’s way.”
“Oh, I spend a lot of my time getting out of the way. I’m not interested in crowding you. Your murder isn’t a federal case and my case isn’t local. But there’s a chance we could help each other out along the way.”
Bachelor picked up his pencil and tapped it on the desk.
“I agree. But it would be helpful if I knew the details of your investigation.”
Munro pulled a cigarette out of a pack in his jacket pocket.
“Do you mind if I smoke?”
Bachelor started to open his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.
“This is a smoke-free office. But I’ll make an exception for the Bureau. Knock yourself out.”
Munro put the cigarette back into the pack.
“No, I can wait.” He paused. “Anyway, I understand where you’re coming from. I really do. It’s just that some of the information I’ve been gathering is somewhat … sensitive. We agree that we can help each other. I just want to make sure we’re not stepping on each other’s toes.”
Bachelor tapped his pencil again.
“So how do we start?”
“Got any POIs?” Munro said. Persons of Interest.
“Sure. Your turn.”
“How about if you tell me who and I’ll tell you whether they’re on my radar.”
Bachelor’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“The usual suspects, of course. The ones closest to the victims. Family members.”
“Like David Purcell?”
“You have done some footwork, haven’t you?” Bachelor said.
“Of course. You liking him?” Munro said.
“Yeah, we like him a little. A few things are a bit shaky on his end, you know. But we’re not hot on him yet. I’d say lukewarm, actually. Doesn’t seem to be a clear motive.”
He addressed Munro. “What about Janet, the daughter?”
“I’m not looking at her,” Munro said. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Well, Van Okin was a doctor for a long time,” Bachelor said. “Lots of patients. And his bedside manner wasn’t his strong suit, from what I hear. Still, no reason to kill him. And his wife. Jesus, she had Alzheimer’s.”
“Yeah, there are a lot of parts that don’t fit together very well,” Munro said.
Bachelor was taking the measure of the federal player.
“How much do you know about the crime scene? About the forensics?”
Munro brushed a piece of lint off the lapel of his jacket.
“Not a damn thing. Except rumors. And I hate rumors. I wanted to get the straight dope. That’s why I’m here. I’ve been in law enforcement about twenty years now. Worked my way from a guy who handed out coffee and donuts at the Fifteenth Precinct in Chicago to a moderately talented but extremely motivated agent who believes he can actually make a difference.”
“Both victims were shot multiple times, apparently with the same weapon. The shells were .32 ACPs,” Bachelor said. “Dr. Van Okin had stippling on his head. A close shot.”
“And the weapon?”
“Nothing on the scene. Also, no sign of a struggle or forced entry.”
“Robbery?”
“Nothing was disturbed. As far as we can tell – we’re still working on inventory – nothing of value is missing.”
Bachelor wondered if he was giving up more information than he should. What the hell, he’d throw out an idea from left field.
“I’m not ruling out the idea of a murder-suicide.”
“The doc? That’s one tough son of a bitch,” Munro said. “Shot himself three times.”
“No, I mean one shot each, then someone puts more rounds in the bodies. I wouldn’t have any idea why. But hell, you gotta look at everything. Especially when you don’t have anything.”
“That seems pretty unlikely,” Munro said. “But I guess it’s something to think about. When it comes to crime the possibilities are endless. You know that. You’ve been in law enforcement – what, about eighteen years now?”
Bachelor was stunned.
“Damn, you do do your homework, don’t you?”
“I try. By the way, what’s the story with that woman who runs the migrant center?”
“Roseanne Cook? What about her?”
“Is she on the up and up?”
“Sure, as far as I know,” Bachelor said. “Why?”
“Oh, nothing. Paid her a visit the other day on my case. Had some questions. She’s saucy.”
Bachelor was caught a bit off guard.
“What about her? I mean, what’s she got to do with your investigation?”
Munro straightened his tie.
“Not sure yet. But I’ll let you know. I mean, we’ll let each other know, right?”
He nodded and stood up.
CHAPTER 26
Bachelor wasn’t ready to end this conversation. He wanted to get back to the subject of David Purcell.
“You on David Purcell too?”
Munro instinctively reached for a cigarette, but instead smoothed an invisible wrinkle out of his tie.
“OK,” Munro said. “Then we have a common suspect.”
“We also have some questions for Manny Tucker.”
“Tucker. Doesn’t ring a bell,” Munro said.
“Your turn,” Bachelor said.
“That’s about all I have,” Munro said.
Bachelor started up his pencil-thumping routine again.
“Now that we’re singing kumbaya, how about giving me an idea of what kind of case you’re working.”
Munro allowed himself a slight smile.
“Well, you seem like you’re running a pretty professional office here. No offense, but not every cop shop in every small town is equipped to handle some information, if you know what I mean.”
“If I was a hick southern Illinois cop, I might take that as a patronizing statement,” Bachelor said.
“Oh, you got me wrong. It’s a compliment. Like I said, I can tell this is a top-shelf outfit. I mean that. And I don’t believe in bullshit. Don’t like the way it smells.”
“OK, so then maybe you can share some of your investigation with me.”
“Of course, this information doesn’t leave your office. You know, what happens in C-Camp stays in C-Camp. Obviously, we don’t want anything getting out that could upset the apple cart, so to speak.”
“Of course.”
Munro got a pensive look and took a couple of steps to his right. He gave the appearance of a lecturer giving his students inside information that just may ensure they get an A on the mid-term.
“It’s basically a Medicaid fraud case. The district office has a hard-on for those. A few things look out of place with Dr. Van Okin’s practice. We think he and Purcell may have been teaming up to scam the system.”
“How so?”
“Purcell has a good supply of potential patients who are easily manipulated. Most don’t speak English. Some may be here illegally. Van Okin has a clinic and welcomes Medicaid patients. Not all do, you kno
w. Because with this being Illinois and all …”
Bachelor stood up and paced a bit.
“Yeah, not real good about making payments to providers. I hear some have to wait nearly a year to get their money from the state.”
“Right,” Munro said. “It almost isn’t worth it. Unless you’re not really doing any doctoring and you’re eventually getting paid for nothing.”
“But why would Dr. Van Okin take that kind of risk?” Bachelor said. “I’m sure he made plenty of money, being a doctor and all. Lived here all his life. Had a good reputation.”
“One thing I’ve learned is that for some people, it’s never enough. Who knows? Could be it started small, he got used to it, and it just got easier and easier. Plus, maybe he didn’t have to work as hard.”
“I don’t know,” Bachelor said. “You’re right about never being able to know how people will behave. But I’d have to believe there’s more to it. Maybe he was having financial problems.”
“Maybe,” Munro said. “It’s something I was planning to look at. It could be relevant to your case too. If I could get a peek behind the curtain, that may help both of us. Getting search warrants in my cases can be pretty tough. Some of these federal judges are real pricks. They act like they’re doing you a favor if they sign a warrant, even if you had enough evidence to fry the guy who lives in the million-dollar mansion. Between you and me, I have to believe politics sometimes gets in the way of good police work.”
“That’s pretty hard to argue, in theory,” Bachelor said. “But what if I lift the blanket off something that could lead to an indictment in your case? How could you make a search without a warrant work?”
“That’s where you come in. Remember, I’m aiding in your investigation. Me being here in C-Camp and all. I agreed to help you out. So we’re partners, in a way. You might say I’ve been deputized, like in the old Westerns. Anyway, I’m perfectly in my right to use something from a valid search in my case.”
“Interesting. You scratch my back …”
“And you crack my case.”
At that moment Bachelor decided that Munro may be helpful. Or not. Munro thought the same about Bachelor.