by Dan Walsh
“I know. Well, anyway…I better go.”
“Glad you made it home okay.”
“Me too. I’ll call you tomorrow sometime. Love you.”
After hanging up, Jack had another thought about his mystery visitor. He went into the living room, slid the recliner back, pulled back the throw rug and popped off the loose floorboard. He reached down and felt the safe right where it belonged. But he started thinking about what Joe had said earlier about how critical this evidence was.
He lifted the safe out, set it on the floor and opened it. After bringing the scrapbook and journal to the dinette table, he put the living room back together again. He couldn’t be sure there was any connection between all these events but, to be on the safe side, he decided to lock these things in the trunk of his car.
Right now, not in the morning.
52
Rob Strickland had just finished eating breakfast at Cracker Barrel. It was early. Mainly because he’d hardly slept last night. He hadn’t found the scrapbook and journal in the big cabin either. He’d looked everywhere. He didn’t have the nerve to call Vandergraf about it last night. But he’d have to call him this morning. If he didn’t, Vandergraf would be calling him.
All things considering, it could have gone much worse. He’d avoided a disaster when that old lady walked in on him at the condo. But it ended up okay. He didn’t have to shoot her, and he was sure she hadn’t seen his face. Of course, it’s not like he could share that small victory with Vandergraf.
He was about to slide out of the booth when his phone rang. Crap, it was Vandergraf.
“Strickland, where are you?” Vandergraf’s voice was sharp and angry.
“What do you mean, where am I?” Strickland said. “How about, good morning, Rob. How’s it going?”
“What happened last night?” Again, Vandergraf’s angry voice.
“What’s eating you?” Strickland asked. “How about you go get your morning coffee, then call me back.”
“How about you tell me what happened at that history professor’s condo last night, and tell me why you didn’t mention anything about it when we talked?”
How did he know about anything going wrong at the condo? “Would you please tell me what’s going on? Yesterday evening you were nice as a spring rain. Now, you’re all in my face. What’s going on?”
“Strickland, what happened at the condo yesterday? Something involving an elderly woman?”
“You know about her?”
“Sadly, I do. And so do the police.”
“The police? How are the police involved?” Strickland stood, dropped a twenty on top of his bill, nodded to the waitress. “You keep the rest,” he whispered and headed out the front door.
“Then you don’t even know?”
“Know what? What are you talking about?”
“I was a little curious,” Vandergraf said. “So I drove by Turner’s condo complex this morning. There’s all these police cars and emergency vehicles there. And their lights are flashing. So I stopped and asked the security guard at the gate what was going on. He said the police found an elderly woman—he identified her as a Mrs. Carlson. She was lying dead on Jack Turner’s bed. Turner’s not there. The guard said he hadn’t been there for over a week. He said the police are thinking it looked like she surprised a burglar, but they aren’t sure yet. He didn’t know how she was killed. If she was shot, or what. But you know, Strickland, don’t you? So I’m asking…what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything to her!” Strickland yelled.
“The guard said one of the cops mentioned since they’d found her on his bed, they weren’t sure if she had been sexually assaulted,”
“WHAT?” Strickland yelled. Someone in the parking lot turned to look. He quickly turned his back and lowered his voice. “You think I raped an old lady? That’s crazy. I wouldn’t do that. I did everything I could not to hurt her.”
“Well, guess that didn’t turn out so well. She’s dead.”
“Well, she wasn’t when I left. I was almost finished searching the place when she walked in. I guess she was there to feed his fish. I was in the kitchen, so she didn’t see me. But I knew she would any minute. When I saw her back was facing away from me, I shoved her into the bedroom and closed the door. Before she could get a look at my face. That’s all that happened. Then I left. Well, first I told her not to come out for fifteen minutes. But I swear to you, I didn’t touch her.”
There was a long pause on the other end, then Vandergraf said, “Okay, let’s both calm down here.”
“I can’t believe the old lady’s dead. She must have had a heart attack. That’s all I can think of.”
“Maybe so. But you know what this means, don’t you? Heart attack or no heart attack.”
Strickland knew. “I ain’t a murderer,” he said. “I just did what you guys hired me to do.” He said that last comment as a subtle reminder that, if he went down for this, he would not go down alone.
Vandergraf seemed to get what Strickland was saying, because the accusing tone left his voice. “Well, let’s just stop for a minute and think this thing through. Did anyone else see you besides this elderly woman?”
Strickland thought for a moment. “There was this other old lady walking her dog on the way in. We saw each other for a second at the most, but she was across the street. I couldn’t even tell you what she looked like, so there’s no way she could ID me.”
“Was she the only one?”
“Yes. I’m sure of it.”
“Well, the autopsy will confirm that you didn’t hurt her, that she died of a heart attack or maybe a stroke. Since she died of natural causes, there won’t be as much outrage as if she’d been shot. How old do you think she was?”
“Seventy or eighty, at least.”
“You wore gloves?”
“Course, I wore gloves.”
“Well, I think we can weather this thing.”
“It was an accident,” Strickland said. “I did what I did so I wouldn’t have to shoot her. I even pushed her down on the bed so she wouldn’t fall on the floor.”
“Okay,” Vandergraf said. “Let’s drop it for now. What’s done is done. So, did you at least get back to Turner’s cabin? The real one?”
“I did. Scoured the place, top to bottom, but no luck. Couldn’t find any trace of the journal or that scrapbook.”
Vandergraf sighed. “We have to get them. It has to be done. It might be necessary to intensify your search.”
“You mean…”
“If they’re not in Turner’s condo, and they’re not in the cabin, he must have them in his briefcase, or in his car. Which means you have to take things to the next level.”
“I can start by breaking into his car,” Strickland said. “That I can do without making a scene. I’ll just follow him a while and do it when he parks somewhere easy. But if they’re not in there, you know what comes next.”
A short pause. “I don’t care,” Vandergraf said. “You have to get those items, no matter what it takes.”
“I just want to make sure we understand each other,” Strickland said.
“I think we do,” Vandergraf said. “Just don’t get sloppy.” He hung up.
“The old lady wasn’t my fault,” Strickland said to no one as he put his phone back in his pocket.
53
As usual, Jack allowed himself to wake up when his body was ready. He got out of bed, washed his face with cold water and drifted out to the kitchen to turn the coffee pot on. He could tell by the amount of light coming in the windows that he’d slept longer than usual. Glancing at the microwave clock, he saw it was 8:35am.
While the coffee brewed, he decided to give Rachel a call. That’s when he realized he’d forgotten to charge his phone. It was completely dead. He plugged it in. He’d call her after his coffee.
When it came on, he stared at the screen to check if anyone had tried to reach him. He had two texts and two phone calls, both that morning. Cli
cking the texts first, he discovered they were both from Sergeant Boyd, a few minutes apart. Both said the same thing: Jack, call me as soon as you get this. He looked at the phone calls. Again, both from the sergeant, both a few minutes apart. He called him back right away.
“Jack, how soon can you get here? I’m at your condo.”
“My condo? Why are you there?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you. There’s been an incident here. An elderly woman is dead. Would you be surprised if she was found in your apartment this morning?”
“Mrs. Carlson?”
“I believe that’s her name. Someone found her this morning. Actually lying on your bed.”
“What? You’re kidding? Of course you’re not kidding.”
“Do you know what she was doing at your place?”
“Probably feeding my fish. The poor lady. She lives next door. I asked her to stop by once a day to feed the fish. How did she die?”
“We’ll have to wait for the autopsy to be sure, but it looks like natural causes to me. No evidence of foul play on her body. Hank and I are both thinking she didn’t just die because it was her time. I’ve gotta ask you something…would you say you keep your apartment pretty neat or pretty messy?”
“On the neat side, I guess. Why?”
“I thought so. The other thing that doesn’t add up is finding her on your bed. I’m told the door was closed.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t make sense. The aquarium’s in the hallway. I can’t believe she’s dead. Although I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone more eager to leave this life. She talked about it all the time, wanted to be with her husband. But why did you ask if I was neat or messy?”
“Because your apartment is a total mess,” Boyd said. “Hank and I both think she interrupted a break-in, and that whoever was here scared the life out of her, literally. Probably shut her in the bedroom and closed the door. Then the heart attack came, or whatever else killed her.”
“A break-in?” Jack couldn’t believe it.
“Nothing else makes any sense, Jack. How soon can you get here? I’d like you to do a quick inventory, see if you can see if anything’s missing. I’ve looked around. None of the usual things have been taken, which is strange if this is a robbery. Some pretty valuable things are right out in the open. But even if nothing was stolen, if someone broke in here and that resulted in this woman’s death, it graduates to murder. I guess it’s possible she surprised the thief before he could grab anything, or else he got spooked and took off.”
Jack felt his stomach tying in a knot. “Or else it wasn’t a break-in at all. Just staged to look that way.”
“Staged? Why would you say that?”
Jack explained what happened last night, the obvious examples that someone had been inside the cabin moving things around while he’d been on his day trip to Columbia. “And now you’re telling me someone was inside my condo, and the place is all torn up. But nothing is missing. Joe, these things have to be connected. That can’t be a coincidence.”
Joe didn’t answer right away. “I don’t believe in coincidences,” he finally said.
“Can I tell you what I’m thinking?” Jack said.
“Somebody is looking for something.”
“Exactly.”
“Although, I have no idea how that is possible. Nobody has been talking about this thing involving the Senator except you, me, Rachel and Hank. And I’d trust Hank with my life.”
Just then, Jack had a flash of his confrontation at the arcade with those two thugs, Paco and Jeff. He remembered what they’d said. “Speaking of Hank, did he ever tell you about me getting jumped at that arcade by two guys?”
“He did,” Boyd said. “You came in to look at mugshots, if I recall. He also said you whupped them pretty good.”
“But did he tell you what they said to me?”
Boyd paused. “No, I don’t remember anything that was said.”
“That’s because neither one of us thought there was any way it could be connected. But that was the same day I had come down to the station to tell you guys all about the evidence I had found at the cabin. Then a few hours later, I’m blowing off steam at this arcade when these two guys come after me. They acted like it wasn’t some random thing. Like they had come in there specifically after me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because one of them said they heard I’d been digging into somebody else’s business. ‘Putting your nose where it don’t belong’ was the actual quote. He said I was asking questions and stirring up trouble. ‘We’re here as a friendly warning. It’s time for you to butt out.’”
There was a long pause. “I’m sure at the time,” Boyd said, “it seemed impossible to Hank for those things to be related. But in light of what just happened here at your condo and at the cabin, I gotta believe they go together. I don’t know how. I can’t imagine our station being bugged. I mean, who would want to do it? Almost nothing ever happens in this town. But Jack, I think we need to start acting like, somehow, the Senator has found out about this. And that he has resources in play to try and shut this down. Considering the consequences of the things you’ve uncovered, I can certainly understand why.”
“So, what do you suggest, Joe?”
“Where is the scrapbook and journal now?”
“In the trunk of my car.”
“That’s no good. I know yesterday I suggested you move them from the cabin. But the fact is, a greedy teenager can break into a car trunk.”
“Where do you suggest I hide them?”
“Officially? I still can’t tell you. Because until I can get a warrant, I don’t have control of the evidence. I’ll see what I can do to make that happen, but until then—”
“I just thought of something,” Jack said. “It’s an oddball idea, maybe even a stupid one. But if the Senator sent someone to search the cabin for the scrapbook and journal, that has to mean he doesn’t know where his father hid them.”
“How do you know he doesn’t know?” Boyd said. “Maybe he looked under the floorboards when you were in Columbia yesterday, and didn’t find them because you had them in your trunk.”
“I didn’t have them in my trunk yesterday, remember? They were under the floorboards. I put them back in the safe the day before. I didn’t take them out until last night when I got home. When I realized someone had been in the cabin, that’s when I put them in my trunk, just before I went to bed.”
“Then I guess you’re right,” Boyd said. “The Senator doesn’t know where his father hid them.”
“And since he’s already searched the cabin and come up empty,” Jack said, “maybe I should just put them back where they belong. Maybe that’s the safest place for now. What do you think?”
“I think I can’t tell you what to do, not officially. Officially? I think you’re onto something. There’s also this, which slipped my mind yesterday…when I do get a search warrant, it will be for the cabin, not for your car.”
“You still need me to head over to my condo then? To do that inventory? Since we both don’t think it was a real robbery.”
“I think you should still come over here to confirm this break-in is real. Like I said, even if nothing was stolen, an innocent woman died, so that makes this a serious felony. Maybe you could still stop by the station before you go there, to drop off those documents you found at the courthouse in Columbia. But there’s no need to hurry. The only hurrying I’d do, if I were you, is to follow through on that idea you just had.”
Jack knew what Boyd meant. Get the journal and scrapbook out of his trunk and back into the safe.
54
As Jack moved those two items from his trunk to the safe, he wrestled with something else he knew he had to do, but dreaded. Call Rachel. She’d be pretty upset hearing what had happened yesterday and instantly recognize the danger. But he had no choice. After putting the living room back together, he picked up his phone and called her.
“Good morning, Jack. Th
is is a pleasant surprise.”
How he wished it was. “Morning, Rach.” He couldn’t think of a way to say it.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yeah, there is. I’m okay, but something’s come up. Something pretty serious. You know how I thought last night someone had been in this cabin, and I found a bunch of things had been moved around?”
“Yes.”
“Turns out, I was right. I got off the phone with Joe a few minutes ago. He had been trying to call me all morning.”
“Oh? What about?”
“He was calling from my condo, of all places.”
“Why from there?”
“Someone broke into it yesterday—probably the same guy. Only this time he wasn’t so careful. Joe said the place was all torn up. But the worst part is, they found my next-door neighbor dead…on my bed.”
“What? Oh, no….”
“She wasn’t murdered, not exactly. They think she had a heart attack, or maybe a massive stroke. She was there to feed my fish.”
“I remember you telling me when you asked her.”
“Hank and Joe both think she walked in on a burglar. I guess he must’ve frightened her, literally, to death. But he said there weren’t any marks on her. She hadn’t been beaten or physically hurt by whoever did it.”
“But still,” she added, “that poor woman. It’s so sad she had to die that way, even if she wasn’t killed on purpose. They’re going to treat it as a murder, right?”
“They are. Joe wants me to head over there this morning and do an inventory, see if anything’s missing. He doesn’t think there is. Neither one of us thinks this is a real robbery.”
“You think whoever it was, is looking for that scrapbook and journal?”
Rachel was always so sharp. “Yep. I think the robbery was staged. We both think that. Which means, somehow, the Senator found out about what we’ve been up to, and he’s sent someone to try and get the things I found in the safe.”
“Jack, this is starting to get scary. If the Senator does know, he knows how damaging these things are to his reputation. I don’t think he’s going to stop looking until he finds them.”