by Irving Munro
It was a well-constructed plan. As Pavel straddled the Bonneville and gunned the engine, a famous scene from The Blues Brothers popped into his head. “There’s 106 miles to Chicago; we’ve got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, its dark out, and we’re wearing sunglasses! Hit it!”
~
Less than an hour later, they were on I70 headed for Columbus. Galina had her arms wrapped tightly around Pavel. The air was crisp and clear and she enjoyed the rhythm of the Bonneville between her legs. Galina reached around and stroked Pavel’s thigh. They would have to stop soon; she wanted something else between her legs and it wasn’t a Triumph motorcycle.
Two hours later, they pulled in to the Buckeye Lake campground just a few miles east of Columbus. It was late in the afternoon and they had already stopped a couple of times for food, gas, potty breaks and to satisfy Galina’s “needs”. She knew that by now her parents would be hysterical. As she thought about her abandoned cell phone sitting on the nightstand with a panicked voicemail waiting, she cringed. They had both deliberately left their phones behind and had purchased new ones. Neither of them wanted to be tempted into listening to voice mail. They were committed to their plan.
They pitched their small two-man tent close by the RVs and used the washroom and shower facilities at the site. A few hours later, they lay together in the tent and held each other tight as they both thought about what they had left behind. They kissed deeply and made love until sleep engulfed them. They hoped that the pain they had caused would be short-lived and that their parents and friends would eventually understand and forgive them.
~
The next morning, they were back on I70 headed to St. Louis. It was raining heavily and it was cold. The euphoria of the day before had worn off only to be replaced by the harsh realities of riding a motorcycle in the driving rain on a cold May morning. They stopped several times, not to deal with Galina’s needs, but to get coffee to warm up and get some respite from the weather. It took several hours for them to reach the St. Louis West Route 66 campground. When they arrived, they were wet, felt like shit and had to pitch a two-man tent in the driving rain.
“I can’t do this,” pleaded Galina. “There are log cabins here for rent, and they have their own shower and fireplace. Can we just stay in one of them tonight Pavel, please?”
“There may be none available!” replied Pavel.
“Please go check. I can’t stand being wet anymore!” said a distraught Galina.
Pavel sighed and headed to the campsite office. He returned a few minutes later with a smile on his face.
“There’s one available. It is normally $59.75 plus tax but he gave it to me for $50 cash,” announced Pavel, adopting a triumphant pose. “Jump on, Galina, it’s just over here.”
After a shower and a burger and fries in the restaurant, they both felt much better. Pavel had secretly wanted to pay for a cabin rather than stay the night in the tent but couldn’t admit it to Galina. It was a trait learned from his father to never show weakness. That night, they slept well in a warm bed and rose early to continue their journey along Route 66.
Chapter 13 - My birthday
2014 - The Cold Case Investigation
Bill Ross watched Jack Johnson pass by the break room, with coffee in hand, on the way to his office. Bill quickly followed Jack and cornered him before he got wrapped up in other work.
“Jack, can I take this file home with me tonight?” asked Bill.
“Which one is it, Bill?”
“It’s the body of a young woman that was discovered in Riverside in 2005. My son, Tommy, was part of the crime scene team. It was soon after he was officially out on his own as a young officer,” replied Bill.
“I remember that case well. It was a real conundrum. Stan Hardwick was the lead detective, I believe. Didn’t know that Tommy was part of the team,” said Jack.
“He had been asked by Stan Hardwick to swing by the house to just check it out. It was purely by accident that he was involved at all,” replied Bill.
Jack smiled and said, “Stan is retired now and living out by Lake Buchanan, lucky sod. Spending his days fishing, I understand. Good guy, Stan Hardwick.”
Jack thought back to some of the cases he and Stan had worked back in the day and smiled. “Not a problem Bill. Take the file home, but keep it intact and don’t copy anything, OK?”
“Got it, boss.” Bill headed out the office with the file tucked under his arm.
~
Bill crossed the dark parking lot, found his BMW and put the Riverside file on the passenger seat. He then headed into the Austin commuter traffic for the journey home. Bill called Tommy from the car.
“Tommy, do you remember a murder case where a body was discovered in the backyard of a house in Riverside? Sometime in 2005?”
“I sure do, Dad. Is that one of the cold cases you have been assigned to take a look at?” asked Tommy.
“Not assigned per se. I was just going through the files, opened that one and spotted that your name was front and center,” quipped Bill.
“I wouldn’t say front and center, Dad. That was Stan Hardwick’s case and I was a rookie member of the team. Just happened to be in the right place at the right time I guess.”
“I’ll give it a good going over the next couple of days and if there are any questions, I’ll run them by you first, if that’s OK.”
“It’s OK with me, Dad, if it’s OK with Jack Johnson. He needs to authorize my involvement as it’s his case now.”
“Yes, Tommy, that was dumb of me. Of course, I need to clear it with Jack. Have a good night and give Claire a kiss from Papa.”
“Will do, Dad,” Tommy hung up.
~
“Reese!”
The name pounded in Tommy’s brain like the brake squeal of a speeding car. Reese, like the mention of the name of a long lost lover. Reese, a beautiful flower.
Tommy thought about a father yearning for his daughter who had left home never to return. He thought about her last thoughts as the selfish killer extinguished her life for his own diabolical pleasure. He imagined her pleading and begging wishing that her father were there to save her. Tommy wanted to be there. Tommy wanted to save her.
He could hear Reese screaming in the back of his mind. “Daddy, Daddy” The plea were deafening, “Daddy, Daddy,” it continued pounding in his brain and he wanted it to stop.
“Daddy, Daddy!”
Tommy snapped out of his trance. He was at home and had just hung up the phone with Bill. Claire was looking up at him.
“Daddy, Daddy. I love you!” said Claire.
“I love you too, my love,” said Tommy and he picked up his daughter and hugged her tight.
Claire kissed him back and then ran to her bedroom to find her doll.
“Were going to find out who killed you Reese,” said Tommy whispering to himself so Claire wouldn’t hear.
“An old Scottish cop and a Marine are going to find you, you son of a bitch! There will be no hiding place, no rock you can crawl under and if it is you and me one on one, I’m going to rip your fucking head off!”
~
After dinner that night, Bill walked out on to his deck, with the Riverside file in one hand and a glass of single malt in the other. Elaine never appreciated the magical properties of single malt scotch whisky and how it allowed Bill to see things others had missed when reading a file. “I’ll make you see things,” she used to say, as she smacked the back of his head playfully with her hand. As he remembered it, sometimes that slap was not all that playful as Elaine worried about what his alcohol intake was doing to his liver.
“Ah well, we all have to die sometime.” mused Bill, “If I have to drown myself in single malt, so be it. Someone has to step up and take the punishment, so it might as well be me!” he chuckled as he opened the Riverside file.
Bill had a very specific method for reviewing a case file. He always tried to read it cover to cover in one sitting if he could, scribbling notes
as he went. He would then go back and reread each section where he had made his notations, studying each piece more carefully, allowing the details to sink in. It was like a mental jigsaw puzzle, looking for pieces that didn’t fit properly or if there were any missing pieces that resulted in an incomplete picture.
So it was that night on the deck with the Riverside file. By the time he got to the end of it, it was 10:30 and he had been at it from just after seven. He looked at his scribbles. They were extensive and in his mind, the neurons and electrons were firing like a twenty-one-gun salute on Queen Elizabeth’s birthday. Jack Johnson told him that Stan Hardwick had been a good detective but there were more holes in his analysis of the Riverside case than on a target on an East Texas shooting range.
Bill decided he needed some rest and time to let what he had read further sink in. He took himself to bed. One of the other little known properties of single malt is that it allows you to get to sleep pretty fast. The downside is you tend to dream some weird shit.
Bill sat upright in bed fully awake and just in the nick of time as his dream killer was about to pump him full of Rohypnol and leave him comatose in the green belt at the rear of his house for the rattlesnakes to enjoy. It was just before 3:00 a.m.; so he grabbed a cup of coffee in the kitchen and took it, along with the Riverside file, back out on to the deck.
He began to make a list:
1. Marie Mason - Good cop, like her, is she still with the Police Department?
2. Dark Ford Explorer with Alabama plates?
3. Harvey Cohen - Was the orthodontist really at a conference in Vegas?
4. Dawn Cohen - Body language!
5. Jim McCord - San Antonio
6. Body - killed elsewhere - transportation? - Staging of body?
7. Body - Why the backyard of the McCord house?
8. McCord - Is he being set up? Does he know something? Who has a grudge?
9. Where are the dirty little secrets?
10. We need to go talk with Stan Hardwick!
It was 5:30 and he needed to shower, freshen up, and prepare for the day ahead. He also needed to brief Jack Johnson ASAP. How would Jack react to him suggesting that Stan did a less than thorough job? Would Jack support him or tell him to back off?
The possibilities whirled in Bill’s mind. There was something there, just under the surface. He could sense it, smell it and taste it. If he could just find the one piece that didn’t quite fit, he was convinced the rest of the puzzle would fall into place. He was sure that Stan Hardwick could help if he was inclined but it might damage his reputation and he might tell him to go take a hike. He needed to try and he needed some help.
Bill made a mental note to talk with Marie Mason and then Tommy. He needed to get Jack’s approval to do that and then gather enough ammunition to go back to Jack to request that he reopen the case.
A few days ago, Bill had been watching another killer in his backyard and the methods employed by the little assassin were not all the different from those used to kill “Reese”. He had noted in the file that this was the name given to the Jane Doe by the scene of crime team. “Well, Reese, I’m going to find out who killed you and I’m going to nail the bastard. You have my word on that!”
~
The next morning Jack Johnson gave the green light for Bill to talk with Tommy and Marie. He informed Bill that George Turner, the forensics detective on the original investigation, had left the police force and was living somewhere on the east coast. He agreed that Bill should meet with Stan Hardwick if Stan was agreeable to a meeting. Jack would make the call to Stan and set it up. Marie Mason was still a detective and a meeting with her was arranged for the following morning.
Tommy and Bill were in the conference room going over the file contents when Marie Mason arrived.
“Morning” said Marie as she strode into the room her black suit and white blouse, immaculate and not a hair out of place. She was five four, one thirty and all business. There was no preamble. She was there to help.
“Marie Mason,” said Marie as she thrust out her hand to Bill. “Good to see you again, Tommy. So, we’re going to take another look at the Riverside case. I’m happy about that. Never like to have one get away. So, over to you Bill. Whatever I can do to help, I’m all in.”
Bill ran through the contents of file with Marie and shared his observations including the loose ends he had found.
“How the fuck did we miss all of this and not connect some of the dots?” said Marie in her normal forthright manner. “We must have had our heads up our asses!”
Bill Ross knew when he read the file last night that he would like Marie Mason, and he was not disappointed.
Bill hid a smile and said, “Let’s go through the evidence you and the team collected initially, Marie, rather than beat yourself up about what should have been done and what was missed.”
“Agreed Bill! The popping sound you hear is my head exiting my ass! Now let’s focus on finding the son of a bitch. I sure hope he’s not dead. I’d hate to think that he went off to meet his maker without being held to account for this.” replied Marie.
Bill hid a smile and said, “You and George did the house to house and there was a woman by the name of Billy Jo McWilliams. She lived at the entrance to Riverside, almost a mile away from the McCord house. She told you that she had seen a dark Ford Explorer with Alabama plates in the neighborhood the night before the body was discovered.”
“Yes, I remember her,” said Marie. “She was very sure about it.”
“In that case, let’s check out if she still lives there and if so, let’s visit her again and see if she remembers any additional details,” said Bill. “We need to find out if she saw the driver’s face. It’s a long shot, I know, but let’s try.”
“It’s a place to start,” agreed Marie.
~
Billy Jo McWilliams lived in the same house in the Riverside neighborhood. Her husband, Tom McWilliams, had passed away in 2008 and the house had been paid off by the insurance settlement. She never remarried and by all accounts didn’t have a new love in her life.
Tommy, Bill, and Marie had scheduled the meeting for 9:00 a.m. and they picked up some doughnuts on the way. After they arrived and were shown into the spacious living room, they all enjoyed breakfast with Billy Jo. A photograph of Billy Jo and her late husband Tom had a place of pride on the coffee table. It was a minute after Marie explained why they were there when Billy Jo finally spoke.
“Gee, that’s almost ten years ago.”
“You must miss him terribly,” said Marie as she gently touched the photograph on the table.
“Yes, I do. He was the love of my life,” said Billy Jo trying to hold back the tears.
“Are you sure you remember the dark Ford Explorer?” said Bill, getting the conversation back on track. “As you said, it’s a long time ago, so how can you be so sure after all these years?”
“I am absolutely sure because September 14th is my birthday and we had a party. It lasted until sundown and then our friends began to leave. Tom and I were saying good-bye to Al and Sheila Simpson and their two kids. They had parked their Suburban right out front. The two kids were messing about and Sheila was yelling at them to get in the car. Their younger boy, Steven, ran straight out into the road and this dark Ford Explorer almost hit him! The driver slammed on the brakes and came to a screeching stop. I remember Sheila running up to the side of the Explorer yelling, ‘Sorry! Sorry!’ The driver didn’t even roll down his window. He just waved as if to say, ‘It’s OK’, and he drove on into the neighborhood.”
“Did you get a good look at his face?” asked Marie.
“Yes, he wore glasses and had a full beard. It was getting pretty dark, so I couldn’t say what color of hair. That was pretty much it,” concluded Billy Jo.
The team thanked Billy Jo and left. Marie was convinced that Billy Jo would have headed straight back into the living room and picked up the photograph from the table, which is exactly what she di
d.
“Now, there’s a love that will never die,” remarked Marie.
As they walked to the car, Tommy turned to Marie. “Didn’t Jim McCord have glasses and a beard, Marie?”
“Thinking the same thing, buddy. Thinking the same thing” replied Marie.
Chapter 14 - The LSU crew
2005 - A Great Adventure
Two days later they arrived in Tulsa. The weather had improved along the way, so when they arrived at the Tulsa RV Ranch in Beggs, Oklahoma, they pitched the tent. The RV Ranch was huge and the restroom and shower facilities were again outstanding. They showered, changed into fresh clothes and felt recharged.
The RV Ranch was located in Green Valley and this area of Oklahoma is cowboy country. The restaurant was filled with dudes with cowboy hats, blue jeans and “shit kicker” boots. There was a saloon with spittoons on the floor and the restaurant served steak. Galina and Pavel were wide eyed at the sight that greeted them when they walked in. They had never seen real cowboys.
“How exciting!” said Galina.
The hostess found them a corner booth. “Y’all might want to split the 24-ounce sirloin if you’re hungry. I think it’s the best deal on the menu,” said the hostess as she went off to deal with the line of hungry travelers waiting to be seated.
The temptation was too great, and although $26 was a little expensive for dinner, they ordered the monster with all the fixings.
An older couple sat in the booth opposite. “Where are you headed? Asked the old man, trying to make polite conversation.
“California,” replied Pavel.
The lady’s eyes widened as she said, “Oh, we spend most of the year on the road, honey. Archie and I love to meet new people at each stop along the way. We make sure that we get back to Connecticut for Christmas each year so we can spend the festive season with our son and his family and see the grandkids open their presents. Then we’re off on the road again.”