by Cole, Bobby
Jake stood. “R.C., that’s too damn close. I can’t believe nobody ever told me that he lives just twenty minutes down the road! This is unbelievable! What should I do?”
“Nothing. From what I’ve seen around here and what you’ve told me, you’re doin’ all you can to protect your family, and I promise you’re being watched. Just let the pros do their job.”
“Man oh man. If that guy was actually runnin’ with those rednecks, he’s bad news too. They were pure evil.”
“I agree…but the police think Moon Pie can lead them to a dude that’s even worse. They’ll get ’em both. I’ve gotta ask you somethin’. You got anything to eat?”
Jake exhaled. “Yeah, sure. Whatcha hungry for?”
“You got any sardines and crackers?”
“Uh, no sardines. We probably have some crackers, though.”
“Crunchy peanut butter and white bread?”
“I think so.”
“I’ll just make a sandwich,” R.C. said, following Jake into the kitchen.
“What would you like to drink?”
“I’ll take a Tab.”
Jake took a hard look at him to gauge his seriousness. “We don’t have Tab. How about a Diet Coke?”
“That’ll work. What about a banana?”
This exchange reminded Jake that R.C. marched to a different beat and was totally clueless that he was different from most folks. As Jake searched for the peanut butter, he said, “Tell me how you got into the private-detective business.”
“Remember the BP oil spill?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I got hired by BP to provide security for their executives when they were on the coast. They also paid me real well to hang out with the locals to find out what regular folks were thinkin’ and doin’. But to be honest, I really miss law enforcement.”
“You seemed like a natural cop—like you really enjoyed your work,” Jake said with a twinge of envy.
“Yeah, I really do miss it,” R.C. replied, almost in a whisper.
Jake looked at him. “R.C., what do you think I oughta do?”
“Nothin’. Don’t do anything.” R.C. smeared peanut butter on white bread.
“That’s gonna be real hard, knowin’ that he’s so close.”
“I’m tellin’ you, it’s the best thing. Let the law handle it. They want him as badly as you do.”
R.C. took a long, hard look straight into Jake’s eyes, stressing his point. Then quickly, as if he had just remembered something important, he clapped his hands and said, “Man, I almost forgot. I’ve got four tickets to the Rascal Flatts concert tonight. My girlfriends can’t go. Long story. You want ’em?”
“Are you kiddin’? Absolutely! Whoa, wait a sec. Did you say girlfriends?”
“Like I said, it’s a long story.”
CHAPTER 51
SAM WANTED TO eat out most nights but couldn’t afford it. As a new lawyer, she hadn’t generated much income, and each month when her bills came, she was reminded of just how sorry her ex-husband was. She still couldn’t believe he had cheated on her and yet she had ended up with nothing. But she appreciated that being broke and happy with cereal for supper was infinitely better than married and miserable with fine dining.
She giggled at the memory of the six bottles of skunk scent she had strategically hidden in the attic of her former home. Little glass time bombs. That winter, they would freeze and break. Eventually the scent would thaw and begin stinking to high heaven. It was her only act of retaliation, and it gave her great pleasure.
Sam and Tom the cat were celebrating her liberation by painting the foyer of her childhood home. The red-and-green-stained-glass transom above the front door was well over 140 years old. Frequently she would touch the hole in the doorframe where a bullet intended for her grandfather had lodged and was preserved. He had been a respected doctor in the community, but during the strife of the 1960s, he had treated an injured Negro teenager who had been beaten while walking home after a civil-rights rally. The young man was the son of their much-loved maid. Sam’s grandfather was carrying the boy up the porch steps when a car drove by, and someone fired several shots. Fortunately, no one was injured.
As she painted, she began to worry about Walter Severson. She had a gut feeling that the Kroger security team was going to have him arrested soon. They had been building a case, and she sensed where it was heading. Anticipating their next move, she began planning hers. It was a high-stakes chess match and her first time to sit at the game table.
CHAPTER 52
TAM’S DRIVER PULLED up to the side of the BancorpSouth Arena in Tupelo and then lowered his window to ask a guy wearing a staff jacket where to park for the meet and greet. He glanced at the black Mercedes and pointed to the convoy of buses and eighteen-wheelers parked inside a ten-foot fence. “It’s usually back there. You gotta go around to the gate. There will be somebody to give you directions.”
As soon as they pulled up to the back gate, a man dressed in a heavy coat and holding a clipboard put up a hand to stop them.
Alexa rolled down her window and waved the printed e-mail invitation at the man, who appeared predisposed not to talk. She yelled, “We’re here to meet the band!”
The man took Alexa’s letter, looked at her, and then bent down to look inside. He stood and read the invite. A chill ran down his spine when he realized from the local police’s briefing that this was the man destined for the sting. He kept his composure and did not look directly at Tam.
“Okay, here’s what ya gotta do. The party’s been moved to that hotel right over there. The Hilton Garden Inn. That’s it right there. The band will be along in a few minutes. Hope y’all have fun.”
“Why did they move it?” Tam asked, always suspicious.
The man acted as if he didn’t hear the question.
The driver knew Tam would want an answer and didn’t pull away.
“I asked you, why did they move to the hotel? Is that normal?”
The man bent back down and said the first thing that came to mind: “The heat went out backstage is all I know. Apparently it’s as cold in there as it is out here. Your lady there would freeze to death.” He leered at her in her skimpy clothing.
Tam looked at him and then at the big building for a few seconds. Finally satisfied, he directed the driver, “Just go.” Alexa clapped her hands and squealed in delight.
The man flipped a page back on his clipboard, found the number he was looking for, and immediately dialed it on his cell phone.
“Your bad guy is on the way,” he said with relief.
“You identified him?”
“Yes. They just left the back gate, headed to the hotel. Good luck. He’s a mean-looking dude.”
“Thanks,” the voice replied appreciatively yet sarcastically.
The lead drug-force officer went to the sound system and turned down the volume. “The hay’s on its way to the barn, people. Look alive!” he said and immediately turned the music back up. He winked at the guy controlling the music. Instinctively, he felt his weapon, and it comforted him. Several men wearing staff jackets acted busy just outside the conference room, and two officers carried trays of hors d’oeuvres around to appear as if they were setting up for the party. Everything and every person appeared legit.
The black Mercedes pulled under the portico at the Hilton Garden Inn. Alexa and Tam were arguing. Tam didn’t want to go in. It was a gut feeling, but he didn’t tell her that. Alexa refused to go in by herself, and they locked horns. The driver had heard it all before. He sat quietly, glancing around and assessing the situation for potential threats. It was what he was paid to do.
Alexa was growing increasingly aggravated and began to question if her fiancé was paranoid or just incapable of enjoying the simple pleasures in life. She knew he earned a living illegally, and she very much enjoyed the fruits; however, she also wanted a taste of normalcy and pledged to drag him along kicking and screaming if she had to. What’s the good in
havin’ money and power if I can’t make my friends jealous? she thought.
“Go in. I’ll be there in a minute. I have some business to deal with,” he said.
“There’s only one invitation,” she said, making a case for both of them to walk in together.
“Then watch for me.”
“Tam, we’re five hours from the coast. Nobody knows you up here in the boondocks,” she pleaded.
Tam recognized her naïveté—a dangerous, usually fatal, trait in his line of work, but one of her attractive qualities.
“Look, baby, do me this favor…go on inside, and when you see everything’s okay, text me and I’ll come in. Okay?”
Alexa looked him in the eyes, saw concern, and then sighed deeply. “Okay. I’ll text you.”
She grabbed her Louis Vuitton purse and opened her door before the driver could get out. She stood there in a tiny, tight, stylish dress and cowboy boots. She was going to attract a lot of attention. She slammed the car door and then headed to the hotel entrance.
“What ya thinkin’, boss?” the driver asked, looking in the rearview mirror.
“I don’t know. Just being cautious,” he said confidently. “I don’t really give a shit about meeting these guys anyway. It’s all just to make her happy.”
The task force quickly zeroed in on Alexa and knew Tam was still in the car.
Into his lapel mic, the lead investigator said, “Once she’s in the room, keep her busy! If she’s acting too suspicious, make sure she doesn’t call him. Unit Two, prepare to block the driveway; they may get spooked and drive off. He can’t leave here. I don’t need her without him. We want Tam. But I don’t want his bodyguard making this violent. Let him drive off. Copy?”
“Unit Two. Roger that.”
“Unit Three. Prepare to block the rear of the vehicle, in case he reverses.”
“Unit Three. Affirmative. We got his ass-end covered.”
All of the law enforcement officers were concerned that if the takedown happened outside, there would be civilians caught in the middle. They shut down the elevators, and several plainclothes officers were stationed at each floor to block anyone from coming down the stairs. An officer posing as a maintenance worker also secured the first-floor passageway to guest rooms. The hotel was in lockdown. The only people milling about had hidden badges and firearms.
Alexa strolled into the lobby, looking like she had just stepped out of a Texas fashion magazine targeting the rich, size-zero demographic. The music drew her to the main room as planned, except she wasn’t dragging Tam along. The officers’ tensions were high.
Tam eyed his drug truck across the parking lot, which was idling just as instructed. He and his driver scanned faces for signs of nervousness and body shapes for bulges in clothing along waists and ankles. Due to the cold, however, most folks were wearing bulky jackets. Tam noted that no other vehicles had pulled up behind them to either check in or attend the meet and greet.
As Alexa approached the room, a lady who appeared to be the hostess welcomed her and asked to see her invitation while checking for her name on the list. The music and noise coming from the room increased Alexa’s anxiousness. She was visibly relieved when the woman read aloud her name and motioned to a man inside to allow her entry.
Alexa smiled and said thank you as she strutted through the door of the dark room. Everyone wore official backstage badges around their necks, and Alexa immediately wanted one. There weren’t as many people as she expected. She glanced around and thought she recognized one of the band members, but, upon taking a closer look, she determined that he wasn’t. She knew the Rascal Flatts guys; she’d seen them in concert several times.
“Excuse me,” she asked a staff member, “when will the band be here?”
“They’re almost ready. They’ll be on their way real soon,” he replied with a broad smile.
Alexa was extremely excited that the meet and greet was much more intimate than she had expected and quickly pulled out her phone and texted Tam.
The nervous undercover team watched, prepared to grab her at any second. But since Alexa was obviously excited about being there and not demonstrating any suspicious behavior, they held their ground and maintained the charade.
She quickly thumbed: “Hurry up. I’ll meet you at the door ☺.”
Tam’s phone beeped the receipt of the message. He read it and grunted.
“Wadda ya want me to do, boss?”
“I’m going in…park close. Check on the truck.”
Tam allowed his driver to open his door. As Tam stood, they both suspiciously looked around. Tam adjusted his coat collar and stepped toward the hotel. The motion-sensitive doors opened, and country music spilled out. Tam sighed, started across the lobby, and then stopped. Either paranoia or a sixth sense had him on edge. He stood very vulnerable in the atrium of the hotel, and, upon seeing a happy Alexa at the end of the hall, he finally moved forward.
Halfway down the hallway, somebody asked if he knew the score of the Ole Miss game. When he turned to the voice, all hell broke loose. Four officers immediately had weapons drawn.
“Hands in the air! Now!” the lead officer screamed.
Officers flooded the area. Tam began cursing in Vietnamese and was coiled like a snake ready to strike. His head was cocked, and he was defiantly ignoring everyone’s instructions, weighing his options.
“Put your freakin’ hands in the air or your brains are gonna be on that wall!”
When he slowly began raising his hands, an officer tackled him from his blind side. Four officers pulled each limb out and began a group frisk of his body, uncovering two weapons.
Had the driver lingered ten more seconds, he would have seen what had happened to Tam. Once Tam was inside, out of sight, the driver pulled away, hoping to grab a bite to eat. As he drove, a Tupelo officer in an unmarked car contemplated following him but knew that the already slim crew needed manpower to secure the location. He watched the Mercedes and jotted down the tag number.
Alexa heard the commotion out in the hall, and when she turned to go look, a female officer twisted her thin arm behind her as she pushed Alexa into a wall.
“Oh shit!” Alexa screamed at the top of her lungs as she fought hard, cursing nonstop. A burly male state trooper wearing a staff jacket jumped in to assist.
Law enforcement had finally apprehended the notorious Tam Nguyen. Every person was amped up on adrenaline. Each officer double-checked gear, weapons, handcuffs, and procedures. One officer Mirandized Tam while another videoed everything for evidence and to establish that protocols were properly followed. A few high fives were exchanged. When the two lead drug-force officers made eye contact, they both knew they had done it—finally. After two years pursuing Tam, they had him in custody. With the mound of evidence they had built through the years, he wasn’t going to see the outside of prison for a long time. A huge sense of relief washed over them.
Out in the parking lot, a pickup truck casually drove off as law enforcement vehicles from several state and federal agencies poured onto the hotel property.
CHAPTER 53
AS JAKE AND crew pulled into the line for concert parking, they could see blue lights flashing all around the Hilton Garden Inn. Jake and Morgan wondered aloud about what could possibly be happening. The spectacle stalled traffic to a crawl as everybody slowed to rubberneck. Katy and her buddy didn’t seem to notice because they were busy texting their friends and probably each other.
During the drive north from West Point, Jake had contemplated everything that R.C. had explained to him and shared most of it with Morgan. He had held back the part about Moon Pie living just across the river. He knew that would freak her out completely.
The BancorpSouth Arena was packed with country-music fans from all walks of life. The Crosbys’ seats were to the side of the main stage. Jake and Morgan enjoyed watching Katy and her girlfriend dance and sing. Once the concert had started, Jake and Morgan momentarily forgot all of their problems and thor
oughly enjoyed the show. Morgan sang along, looking Jake in the eyes at just the right times. It was just what they needed.
Levi and his date sat lower in the arena than he preferred, but her company caused him to forget the cost of the seats. On one of several trips to buy cold beer, he recognized Jake Crosby. Levi had seen his picture on numerous occasions and had been with Moon Pie on several drive-bys of Jake’s office. He was positive it was Crosby and texted Moon Pie to tell him the situation.
Moon Pie, however, was as drunk as Cooter Brown, as his momma used to say, and pissed off at the weather. Ole Miss was finally ahead of LSU, which made him somewhat excited, but it was raining too hard to go shinin’. Deer just wouldn’t be moving in such bad weather. It didn’t matter that he had already killed six before the season opened; he hadn’t gotten one that day, and it was eating at him.
When Moon Pie received the text, he laughed out loud and thought hard about what he could do. He strongly considered trashing the Crosbys’ house, but he knew firsthand that it was under surveillance and had an alarm system. Ever since he had been spotted in their backyard, the Old Waverly community had really tightened up their security. Killing their dog was an option that he strongly considered until he opened the front door of the trailer to check the weather. He decided to stay put and drink another beer.
“How?” Levi texted back.
Levi nodded at the next text from Moon Pie and smiled at the thought of impressing his half brother. He also wanted to get back to his hot date. He had priorities. Following Moon Pie’s instructions, he borrowed a pen from a security officer. He wrote a simple message on a napkin, read it several times, and then decided to rewrite it. He handed back the pen, shook his head, acknowledging the meanness of the note, and carefully folded the paper and slid it into the pocket of his down vest as he hurried back to his date.