"Gordon, it seems rather strange and a coincidence that Glen Wilson, your supplier of drugs and actor, should venture so far from Portland to our small town of Bandon. It's even stranger to understand what he was doing at the small store and what happened to cause him to be murdered," said Stacy.
"We don't believe in coincidences, in our line of work," said Rory. "If we take it a step further, The Weasel shows up on your doorstep, so to speak, and finds himself super glued to a wall dead as a door nail."
"We find that very revealing that three hundred miles from Portland he dies in your back yard," said Stacy. "Furthermore, we think you've more to say than you've been telling us. The DNA is not back yet, but you're our prime suspect. Rory is going to read you your rights and take you up to North Bend for further questioning,"
Stacy's cell went off. She saw it was Dr. Stone. She answered and listened. Then she said, "Thanks Dr. Stone. The DNA donor is right here as we speak. You're so good at your job!"
"Well, Gordon, your DNA matched the sperm from the murdered victim's rectal passage. This should seal the deal," said Stacy.
Gordon with eyes bigger than saucers, mouth hanging open, was at a loss for words. He sat there dumb founded. In a croaky voice said, "I did meet him and we got it on, but I never killed the guy."
Rory read him his rights and had just finished when Gordon's father walked in. Sheriff Yeast said, "Say nothing Gordon. Let our lawyer take care of this case. Go along now quietly and make no trouble." He turned to Rory, ignoring Stacy, "I was listening and it must seem he's your prime suspect, but I know my son and he didn't kill anyone."
"Let's let the jury decided; shall we Sheriff Yeast," said Rory.
Stacy felt good. They'd done a better than fair job of investigating a homicide case. However, like the last case, where matching DNA almost sent an innocent man to prison, something was nagging at her. Be that as it may, she watched a shackled Gordon Yeast drive off with Rory smiling from ear to ear.
Sheriff Yeast was talking to Chief Foreham when Stacy walked back in. She walked right up and said, "Excuse me Sheriff Yeast, but I understand you like to go out over the bar deep sea fishing. No, I'm not accusing you of using tax payer money, but as part of this investigation, I'd like to know who went with you, if anybody?"
"What in god's name does fishing have to do with a homicide down at the Perkins store," asked the sheriff.
"Probably nothing, but I'd still like to know who went with you fishing a week ago Friday. The Coast Guard confirms you went over the bar in the counties boat."
"I usually just go by myself. I need the quiet time away from my taxing job. What with budget cuts, our staff is bare bones. I have to cover some shifts myself on occasion," he said.
''Thanks sheriff, you've been a big help. By the way, did you catch anything," she asked.
"Let's see now," as he looked at the ceiling scratching his chine, "if I recall, a large link cod is what I brought home. Would you like to go with me sometime officer Foreham," he asked with the devil in his eye.
"I'm afraid I get motion sickness in the worst way,'' said Stacy thinking he'd probably throw me overboard.
The Beat Goes On
For the next couple days, Stacy revisited the crime scene and the Old Town Dock. At the dock she wanted to know more about Sheriff Yeast fishing trips. She had a record of his excursions across the bar. She didn't think the dates he went fishing had much to do with any special times of the year.
Down at the dock, the weekend before Labor Day, Stacy was chatting with some old timers who sat on the benches while the charter boats came and went. It might be true the old timers had a bit of a short term memory problem, but when the county sheriff went by in the boat all the heads would turn.
Stacy found what she was looking for: two old men with wool blankets over their legs to ward off the cool on shore wind. Unfortunately, she didn't recognize either one of them, but come to find out, both knew who she was.
Stacy asked, "Excuse me gentlemen, but could I ask you guys a few questions about fishing and the boats coming and going?"
"Sure you can. I'm Rex Endwith and my friend here, who's a little hard of hearing, is Felix Bounder. We know who you are officer Foreham, or may I call you Stacy. Both Felix and I have followed your career ever since you went off to the university. We also read with keen interest the homicide at the golf course and your involvement. Now we've been following the Perkin's store murder. What would you like to ask us," said Rex.
"I'm happy to meet you. I'm wondering if you guys were here about a little over a week past when the sheriff's boat went out."
"We're most every day during the summer time. We can tell you about when a boat goes out or comes back in, but the date is beyond our capability. In answer to your question, Yes, we saw it go out and come back in. It went out morning and came back after lunch. He docks the boat where the locals do." He pointed to the east where the docks for parking or docking was about 300 yards away. Rex continued, after reaching inside his heavy coat for a pair of binoculars, "I saw the sheriff walk to his car carrying an ice chest. It must have been fairly heavy as his back was bent. He always has that ice chest with him and he never cleans his catch here where the charter boats dock."
"Thanks for the information Rex and Felix. Now have you ever seen a pleasure craft come into the harbor this summer. Like maybe from down south or from even further south to Mexico," she asked
"Nope, nothing but fishing boats come in here. What else can we help you with," Rex asked.
"That's about all guys. I appreciate it more than you know. Keep reading the papers," she said while shaking their arthritic hands that were ice cold.
Stacy walked alongside the waterfront to the east where the private boats were moored. She wasn't looking for anything in particular, but wanted to think about what the two old gentlemen had to say. Sure Rex did the talking, but Felix was nodding his head most of the time. Alice Grimes was preparing for a trip out in her charter boat as Stacy passed by.
Alice looked up, wiped her brow and said, "Hi Stacy, what you doing down here today?" Obviously Alice was 'fishing' on the dock for some gossip to pass onto her clients. However, she was a nice person so Stacy answered:
"I was talking to those two old gents about the sheriff going out over the bar fishing alone. I'm not sure that is a good idea, but what do you think Alice?"
"He told me he likes to be alone sometimes. His boat has the latest in communication gear and even three miles out we have cell phone coverage. But, what is a little strange Stacy is he never cleans his fish on the dock. He told me he cleans them out at sea, but that's not an easy thing to do. He seems to struggle with the weight of the ice chest and whenever someone offers to help, he shrugs them off. I'm not voting for him next time. He's not friendly at all these days."
"What does he usually catch," asked Stacy.
"He says he likes to bottom fish for ling cod. He likes the deep fried cod taste he says."
"How's business, by the way," said Stacy.
"Good. Real good. We're booked full up through Labor Day. After that we'll move up the coast to our winter home in Newport. I got to go Stacy. Nice chatting," as she waved bye bye.
Rory called and asked if she wanted in on the interview with Gordon's lawyer present. She told him of course and when should she be there. He told 2 pm and told her to hurry up and come for lunch. She laughed and said she was on her way.
A Change of Tune
Sub sandwiches were lunch at the North Bend State Police Office. Instead of the interview in the county jail in Coquille, the lawyer agreed to North Bend. What they didn't want is any interference from his father the sheriff. No home field advantage is what they were saying.
After lunch they chatted about the case. Ben asked, "Stacy, you got something gnawing on your mind about this case. Share it with us. You've proved before that your vision is wide like a wide angle lens on a camera."
Rory said, "Now Stacy, we have a strong case here a
nd are you going to tell us we got the wrong guy again?"
"No, I'm not saying that at all. I think there's more to this case than meets the eye. I seriously doubt Gordon Yeast worked alone. At the best we can do is charge him with an accessory. I suspect that a bigger player in this drug game is responsible for the homicide of Glen Wilson."
Rory had learned his lesson the hard way last time. Instead of making a fool of himself, he asked, "Do you have a suspect in mind?"
"I do, but can't come close to proving it. We need his accomplice to implicate him. That accomplice is Gordon Yeast. I think he knows who killed Glen Wilson. Now whether or not he'll give him up is another story. Let's see how the interrogation plays out," said Stacy.
At a few minutes before 2 pm Gordon and his lawyer, Don Dinky, walked in like they were just coming back from a luncheon meeting with martini's the main menu. However, once Gordon saw the somber faces on his interrogators, he withdrew into himself. It was clear he realized he was up a creek without the proverbial paddle.
A sheriff's deputy took off his cuffs and they sat down in the one and only interrogation room. Attorney Don Dinky said, "My client wishes to cooperate the best he can. However he'll say nothing to incriminate himself any further than already exists. He wants to make a statement for the record. After that let's see what questions he can answer and what questions he won't answer."
With a recorder on a formal statement by Gordon Yeast was officially taken: "For the record, I didn't kill Glen Wilson. Yes, we had anal sex, but it wasn't rape, it was consensual. I met him at the Perkins store around 1 am. He promised me an ounce of coke if I would perform anal sex and give him a blow job. I agreed. I was driving my mother's car and we did the deed in the back of his van. I was in the act of sucking him off when the van door slid open. A light was shinning in my eyes. A muffled voice told me to get the hell out of there and I did. I drove off towards Bandon. When I left Gordon Wilson he was very much alive. End of my statement."
Rory asked, "Did you recognize the voice?"
"No. I think he had a handkerchief over his mouth," said Gordon.
"Did you see a car besides your own anywhere," asked Ben.
"No I didn't. I was scared to death. I ran for my car and peeled out for home."
Rory looked at Stacy and she nodded. "Gordon, this is what I think happened. Another person that perhaps you know well was going to meet Glen Wilson for a drug transaction. The sex part was scheduled earlier before the meeting time of the other person. That part of the meeting had nothing to do with drugs; other than your payment for services rendered. Now, having said that, do you want to save your butt from the gallows by giving up the real killer?"
All three investigators were watching Gordon closely. He was squirming and obviously agitated. But he kept his mouth shut. He shook his head. The lawyer said, "Anymore questions detectives?"
"When did you first meet Glen Wilson Gordon," asked Stacy.
"I met him the first time I entered the clinic back in January of this year. I really got to know him after the second time around. I got out July 31st."
"Did you ever tell your father stories of your activities while in drug rehab," asked Stacy. The lawyer shook his head to not answer that question.
"Okay, Gordon. I understand you will be arraigned very soon. You're going away for a very long time. We also know you have an accomplice that helped you superglue the victim and to take the van to Langlois. We've a warrant out for your friend, Benny Parsons. Let's see what he has to say about that night," said Rory.
"He doesn't know anything," Gordon blurted out. He's just a friend."
"Well Gordon, friends tell friends things. Let's see what he's be told by you," said Rory.
A Gay Morning
Benny Parsons lived near the Coquille County Court House. It was just a short walk to visit his friend in jail. It was decided that Rory would do the interview with Ben. Some intimidation was needed to loosen his tongue. Benny had agreed on a 9 am meeting the following day of Gordon's official statement.
Benny opened the door of his parent's house for Rory and Ben to come in. Both his parents worked so they were gone. The house was typical of places built during the war years. It was small, but neat and clean. An old davenport sat under the front window decorated with white doilies. Benny sat in his father's rocking chair. Rory saw a pimple faced young man who seemingly lacked any outgoing personality. Physically he was thin and over six feet tall. Rory asked, "Benny, tell us about the Friday night you were with Gordon down in Bandon when he met Glen Wilson."
"Am I under arrest," asked a squeaky voice.
"No not yet. If you're honest and tell us the truth of that night that you didn't have anything to do with Glen Wilson's demise, then no harm no foul," said Rory.
"Alright. I found out we were to meet a guy south of Bandon for a drug buy. I told Gordon his father would have a heart attack if he knew we were buying drugs. Besides, I said, we've no money. He told me not to worry about the cash side as he was going to do a little horse trading. We left Coos Bay around midnight. When we arrived at the Perkins store a dark colored van was sitting there. Gordon told me to wait here that he would be gone for a half hour or so. Our car was pointed towards Bandon and the van was behind me. I did adjust the rear view mirror, but it was so dark I couldn't see anything.
I was getting nervous and a little scared. There was no traffic to speak of coming or going. About twenty minutes had gone by when first I saw headlights coming from the south and then they went out. I thought shit, we've been had. After that, I saw a bobbing flash light shinning inside the van. The next thing I knew was Gordon was back in our car and we left in a hurry. He wouldn't tell me nothing. All he did was swear at the person with the flashlight."
"Did it appear to you Benny that Gordon knew who held the flashlight," asked Ben.
"Yes, I think so. But who it was, I've not a clue. He clammed up all the way home. I didn't hear from him for a day or two."
"Thanks Benny. Don’t leave town. We might have some further questions as time goes on," said Rory.
The two state police detectives drove down to Bandon. Both felt a little dejected, but Benny Parsons's statements were clearly helpful. Ben said, "It's my thinking that from what we have gleaned is there's no doubt that Gordon knows who the 'Flashlight' man is."
"I agree with you and Stacy knows who it is --- or at least has a strong suspicion about who it might be."
It was getting on to late in the afternoon or early evening as they entered Bandon. It was hard to tell whether it was clouds or fog moving in as dusk slowly took command of the day. Stacy had been hanging around the station house waiting for the report from Rory and Ben. When they drove in, she saw they out the window. She'd decided it was snack time so she had her coat on preparing against a cold evening. Rory waited seeing her with a coat on thinking she was in need of some substance. They scurried across the highway to the restaurant. A few early evening seniors were having dinner.
They sat down at a table with a view of the highway. It was fairly busy as what few commuters were evident; it seemed a little busy for the small town.
"Well, I'm waiting for your report," said a snarly Stacy. It was out of character for her and both Rory and Ben were a little shocked. "Sorry guys, my mind is at warp 9 and Scotty really needs to beam me up."
Both guys laughed as they recognized the Star Trek analogy. "Benny confirms that someone opened the van door and made Gordon exit in a hurry. He told us that Gordon was mad as hell and drove home not saying much but swearing at the loss of drugs. He thinks Gordon knows who the 'Flashlight' man is. Now we think you have a strong suspicion about who it might be also," said Rory.
"But how to prove it is what's got me flustered. Yes, I think it's Sheriff Yeast who opened the van up and I think it's the sheriff who killed Glen Wilson," said Stacy.
"Take it a step further," said Ben.
"The porno aside; drugs only. I think Glen Wilson and Sheriff Yeast were in the drug
business big time. Sheriff Yeast would go out fishing and meet a boat from down south with cocaine. The sheriff would pack it off his boat in an ice chest. Glen Wilson would drive down from Portland and pick it up. What happened, I think, is the sheriff arrived early, caught his son doing acts against his beliefs. He was so pissed off he killed the guy. The only problem I have guys is the fact of the van itself. How did the sheriff drive the van down to Langlois and get back to his car at the store?"
"There's a side road not far south of the Loop Road. He could have parked his car there and drove the van down to Langlois. You know how thick law enforcement people are. He might have called a deputy from Curry County to give him a lift back up Highway 101. He arrives just as we arrive at the store around 9 am," said Ben.
"Or he may have caught a ride from a local going to work early that morning," said Rory. "Be that as it may, I like the Sheriff for the homicide."
Myrtle Wood Monkey Wrench
The next day, early morning, Stacy sat with her father and discussed the case with a good listener. The only thing out of the ordinary was the chief making notes on his legal pad. After Stacy had finished with her latest information about the sheriff and his participation in the case, he sat back with keen ears. A few moments of silence occurred and then he said, "Nothing in a homicide case is unbelievable, but having known Sheriff Yeast for most of his life, drugs maybe, but murder… I'm not so sure. You'll need some solid evidence to prove his involvement."
Girl Friday Flo rapped on the door saying, "Excuse me, but Ed Goodright is on the phone insisting he talk to Stacy. He's the owner of Ed's Myrtle Wood Factory down the road a few miles."
Stacy jumped up and went to her office to take the call. She knew better than to waste the chief's time by using his phone. She said, "This is Officer Foreham speaking. How can I help you?"
Murder Mysteries Page 11