Jason Deas - Cameron Caldwell 01 - Private Eye

by Jason Deas

“You got me. You got me,” Kyle said, with a fake smile plastered across his face. The smile disappeared and was replaced with a fierce look.

  Kyle had almost made it as a big city reporter. Almost. Unfortunately, in the harried media race to be first, he’d skipped his obligations to check his references on a big story for the Atlanta Journal. It was a huge story and made the paper look silly in front of the nation. His resignation was requested and he obliged and disappeared to Hayes. Kyle still had the fire and feel in his belly for a big story.

  “I can’t seem to find Cameron Caldwell. Seems as though he’s disappeared.”

  The waitress showed up to save the day for Rowdy. With oven mitted hands, she set the hot plates in front of the brothers.

  “Why don’t you come by the station, at say, four and we can talk,” Rowdy offered.

  “See you at four.”

  When he’d walked away, Dell asked, “Where is Cam?”

  “As far as Kyle is concerned, he’s in Hawaii, and that’s what I’m going to tell him. If he asks you, you tell him he’s on administrative leave in Hawaii.”

  “I hope he sends us a postcard. I bet it’s real pretty there.”

  “He’s not really in Hawaii,” Rowdy said, kicking him under the table again. “He’s in a little town in north Georgia called Miner’s Bluff. I told you all this before. He applied for a business license a few days ago and popped up in a search I made for him.”

  “Do you still think he’ll send us a postcard?”

  “Don’t count on it. Eat your hamburger changa, we have work to do and I have to get ready for a newspaper interview at four.”

  When the boys were finished with their meal, Rowdy summoned the waitress for the check.

  “Your meal has been paid for, Señor Rowdy,” she said. “The Dr. Wilson was sitting on the other side of the restaurant and asked to pay your bill. He even left a very nice tip. He just say for me to tell you to see him before you leave town. I don’t know what that means but I promise to him I will tell you.”

  “That was very nice of him,” Rowdy said, taken aback. As the waitress walked off, Rowdy asked Dell, “Do you think he was listening to our conversation?”

  “You’re doing the paranoid thing again.”

  As they walked out of the restaurant Rowdy slapped his brother on the back of the head and said, “You don’t do paranoid, you are paranoid.”

  “OK,” Dell said. “You are the paranoid.”

  At four o’clock on the nose, Kyle walked into the station. Rowdy was ready. He’d sent Dell on an errand. As he watched Kyle talk with the desk sergeant he wished he’d already talked to Dr. Wilson about the prescription for the anxiety medicine. The desk sergeant pointed Kyle back to Rowdy’s office and he pretended to study some papers at his desk.

  Kyle knocked and Rowdy looked up as if he’d been deep in thought. “Oh, Kyle, I forgot you were coming. What a pleasure,” he said, standing up and crossing the room to shake hands with the reporter. “Please, have a seat.”

  “Thanks,” Kyle said, pulling out his mobile. “This won’t take long, Rowdy. The townsfolk are just getting restless for some answers.”

  “I understand,” Rowdy said. “I don’t want to keep our citizens in the dark, but since this sort of thing rarely happens in Hayes, we want to make sure we get it right.”

  “That makes perfect sense.” Kyle settled into the chair and put his mobile on video. “Let’s start with Officer Caldwell.” Rowdy swallowed hard. “It’s no secret that about the same time Clarence’s body was discovered, your officer had a breakdown that somehow made it to the social media sites. Did his explosive behavior have anything to do with this case?”

  Without missing a beat, Rowdy said, “Not a chance. Internally we’ve been dealing with Officer Caldwell’s behavior for months. I detected the smell of alcohol on his breath at work about two months ago and confronted him. He told me he’d been dealing with some problems at home and promised to clean himself up. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and let it go. He continued to come to work smelling of alcohol and as I was about to suspend him for his actions, he blew up. Pure coincidence.”

  “I see,” Kyle said. “Why do you think that happened?”

  “Well, this gets us back to the investigation at hand and things I can’t talk about.”

  “So, without saying it, you’re saying that you think he had something to do with Clarence’s murder?”

  “I can’t speak to that,” Rowdy said, nodding his head up and down. The reporter was holding his mobile in his hand. There would be no video record.

  “Fine. Let’s talk about what you’ve found.” Kyle paused. “Have you found any evidence that leads you to believe you’ll make an arrest soon?”

  “Yes. Just last week we found some hairs and other DNA evidence at Clarence’s home. We also found some other damning evidence. I’m not at liberty to discuss it at this time as it’s being processed by the state crime lab.”

  “Is an arrest coming soon?”

  “Yes. You can put in the paper that I expect to make an arrest in the next few days.”

  “That soon?”

  “Yes.”

  “One last question.”

  “Sure.”

  “There has been some talk around town that your health is in decline—especially when it comes to your heart. Is there any truth in that?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Well,” Kyle said, turning off the mobile’s screen. “I told you I’d be quick. I know you’re a busy man.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  Kyle walked to the door, stopped, and turned around. “Might I have your permission to interview Dell?”

  “No.”

  Kyle hid a grin as he turned to go.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Cam and Claude’s first stop back in town was to Claude’s house to drop off their treasures from the junkyard. The house was as strange as Claude and looked as though it had been built by at least three different builders with completely different tastes and architectural philosophies.

  A narrow gray concrete structure three stories tall divided the other two sections. It reminded Cam of a castle or a prison guard tower. The bottom didn’t have any windows, but the top had large oversize ones allowing views in all directions. The segment to the left was best described as a tree house, although it was no ordinary tree house. The multiple levels inhabiting the woody area had limbs and trunks sticking out of the roof and walls. It would have been the wet dream of any boy. From the opposite side jutted a long two-story rectangular building made of steel that reminded Cam of a house he’d seen by Frank Lloyd Wright. One of the rectangles sat atop the other, somehow seeming to float above perpendicularly.

  “Wow!” was all Cam could muster as he took it all in.

  “I couldn’t decide which style I like best,” Claude said, as he drove the truck to the Frank Lloyd Wright side of the house.

  “That’s apparent.”

  “I built the tree house part myself. I contracted out the other two parts.” At the back of the rectangular section was an enormous metal door. Claude reached up to a remote attached to his visor and pushed the button. The door opened and Claude drove the truck inside.

  Not being an artist or having an understanding of art paraphernalia, Cam could not fully appreciate what the interior of the building held. The room contained a catalogue of art materials and equipment.

  “Just set the stuff over here.” He pointed to a stash of metal. “Keep your stuff separate and I’ll get started on your sculpture tonight.”

  As Cam looked around he saw an old radio missing one of its dials. A shock coursed through his body as he remembered the item found in Billy Prescott’s mouth. When he turned around, Claude was holding an ax above his head. Cam jumped back.

  “Easy tiger,” Claude said. “You just looked at me like I was going to split your brain.” He set the ax down. “I was just trying to decide if I should cut the end off and use it in on
e of my pieces, or if I should use it to cut wood. What do you think?”

  Trying to compose himself, Cam said, “It looks pretty dull. Use it in one of your pieces.”

  “Good idea. “I’d love to give you the grand tour, but Daphne’s probably waiting for us to come by so she can go home. I’ll text her and let her know we’re on our way.”

  “OK.” They walked back to the truck and Cam swung himself into the passenger seat. He was still trying to catch his breath.

  Claude texted his sister and got back in the truck as well. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, backing out of the building and pressing the button on the receiver to shut the door.

  “Sorry, I need a drink.”

  “You thought I was going to chop your head in two with that ax.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Cam lied. “Stop by Hank’s station. I just need a drink.” He couldn’t get the image of the radio without the dial out of his mind.

  Without seeing anyone, Cam walked straight back to the beer cooler and grabbed a six-pack. He looked around the store, not seeing another customer in sight, he cracked one and tilted his head back.

  “Thirsty?” he heard a voice behind him say.

  “Parched,” Cam said, when he lowered the bottle. He took another swig and placed the empty bottle back in the six-pack holder. “I met your buddy, Darren.” Cam looked for a reaction.

  “Crazy bastard, isn’t he?”

  “He’s definitely a character.” Cam paid for the beer and waited for Hank to ask why he’d gone to visit Darren. He didn’t. “Officer Gomez said he could come to the funeral and I was going to call, but he doesn’t have a phone. Who doesn’t have a phone?”

  “That’s Darren. I’m glad he can come. When is the funeral?”

  “Tomorrow. It’s at one o’clock at the Methodist church.”

  “OK. Looks like I’ll be closed for a few hours tomorrow.”

  “How’d you know I was here?” Cam asked. “What if someone came in and started sticking things in their pockets?”

  “Turner hooked up a surveillance system for me. I’ve got cameras hidden in a few different locations. I can see everything from the back.”

  Daphne was waiting for the boys when they arrived. She’d finished all her after-hours work.

  “I was starting to wonder if Darren finally decided to kill you,” she said to Claude.

  “He forgave me.”

  “He must have been drunk.”

  “No. He knows he was wrong for trying to make the moves on Mom. And he’s now a Catholic.”

  Daphne laughed. “Darren’s a Catholic?”

  “He said it was a long story.”

  “That’s a long story I’d like to hear.”

  “I didn’t ask. Are you going to close early tomorrow so you can go to the funeral?”

  “Yeah. I think we’re going to have to catch up later, guys.” Daphne sat down, which was unusual. “I’m tired, and Blanca said she wants to see you as soon as you get back to town. I’m not your secretary, you know? Don’t you have a cell phone?”

  “I forgot it at home.” He turned to Claude. “Do you mind dropping me by the station? I’ll get a ride home from there.”

  “Am I your freaking valet?” Claude winked at Daphne, and she smiled.

  The Miner’s Bluff police station was quiet when Cam walked in. He didn’t see anyone. Walking back to Blanca’s office he lightly tapped on the door.

  “Come in,” she called. Cam entered and sat down in the chair across from her desk. “We got the cause of death while you were out.” She paused to look at Cam. “He drowned.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “What doesn’t?”

  “Pretend for a moment that you’re the person who killed Billy. Wouldn’t you just leave him face down in the creek next to his four-wheeler? Make it look like an accident. Make it look like he was out riding, maybe had an accident that knocked him unconscious and he drowned. Case closed.”

  “That would make sense. It makes a lot of sense really. So, whoever did this wanted to make a statement. And obviously so by cutting his hand off and dropping it on the main drag in town. Who would want to do that?”

  “Unfortunately, from the short time I’ve been in town, I would have to say a lot of people,” Cam said, cocking his head.

  “But that takes an enormous amount of rage. Who has that?”

  “I would have to say Alice, Darren, and the daughter. What’s her name again?”

  “Kaye. And neither Kaye nor Alice would be strong enough to hold a man like Billy’s head underwater long enough to kill him. They might be able to pull off a surprise attack and get his head under water for a moment, but I can’t see either one of them being able to hold him down long enough to kill him.”

  “What if they worked as a team?”

  “I still don’t see it,” Blanca shook her head. “Maybe if he was drugged, but the lab didn’t find anything out of the normal in his system.”

  “So, that leaves Darren, which brings up an interesting point. Claude and I visited him today to let him know he had permission to attend the funeral. He obviously had an appointment he didn’t want us to know about as he basically forced us to leave. As we were leaving, we saw a couple of Japanese men coming down the drive. From what I know about the land deal and the proposed ski slope, a Japanese company is involved.”

  “That’s correct. And I know where you’re going with this. You’re wondering who Billy left the land to.” Cam nodded. “Well, I spoke with his lawyer this morning. It’s a bit confusing and I imagine it will take the courts to figure it out. Billy’s parents left the land to Billy and Darren. Billy left his money and his possessions to Kaye. He’d recently taken Alice out of his will. The problem is, some of Billy’s possessions that go to Kaye are on the land that goes to Darren.”

  “That’s a headache.”

  “I’m sure there’s language in the will stating how it will all get sorted out, but we didn’t get into that this morning. I just had the same question you did about the proposed ski slope property.”

  “We really need to watch the three at the funeral tomorrow to see how they interact.”

  “How can we do that without being too obvious?”

  Cam thought. “I have an idea, but you’re going to have to trust my judgment.”

  “OK. What?”

  “From what I know about Turner, he is somewhat of a, how do I say, person who is able to build anything.”

  “What could he possibly build to help us out?”

  “Cameras,” Cam said. He stood with ideas flying through his head. “If we could get into the Methodist church tonight and set up some cameras to record the service tomorrow, we might be able to pick up on something.”

  “No,” Blanca said. “He’s a suspect, too. I know he’s not high on our list, but he’d be able to tell somebody what he did and prepare them for what we had in store.”

  “What if,” Cam said, thinking, “what if we stayed with him the whole time and convinced him to spend the night in the jail to clear his name?”

  “Can we do that? Would he do that?”

  “We can ask,” Cam was pacing around the office. “You get on the phone and see if we can get into the church and I’ll work on getting Turner here to propose the idea.”

  “This is crazy, Cam. But it might work. Use the phone at the desk and I’ll see if I can get a key to the church.”

  Cam found Turner’s phone number and called. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Just about to watch a movie. Why?”

  “I need to talk with you. I have a way I think you can clear your name from the investigation.”

  “I’m already clear,” he said, indignantly.

  “Just indulge me, then. Does Officer Gomez know where you live?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll be there in thirty minutes.” Cam hung up, leaving Turner perplexed.

  Blanca was able to reach the pre
acher from the Methodist church with one phone call. He was happy to lend her the key without any questions.

  “Drop me at Turner’s, go pick up the key, and we’ll meet you there,” Cam instructed.

  “What if he doesn’t have the equipment he needs?”

  “I’m betting he does. If he doesn’t, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

  Blanca dropped Cam at Turner’s a few minutes later. She took off before he knocked on the door. He hoped Turner hadn’t split out of fright and misunderstanding for what was going down. Cam knocked.

  “Come in,” he heard from deep in the house. Cam entered.

  “Who’s here?” Turner called.

  “Just me.”

  Turner slid closed a compartment from the ceiling and peered down. Turning his body around his foot found the stepladder underneath, and he descended.

  “If we’re going to be friends for very long, please don’t ever willingly bring the law to my house again.”

  “What are you hiding up there?” Cam asked, with a smile.

  “None of your business.” Turner was deadly serious. “Are we clear?”

  “Yeah. Relax. You’re not on her radar. Stop acting so guilty or you’re going to be on mine.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  “I hear you’re the man to come to for surveillance.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Your dad said you wired his place and he can see whatever is going on in his store from the back.”

  “God blasted. I told him to keep that a secret. If people know it’s there, it loses its effectiveness.”

  “Maybe he slipped. Anyway, do you happen to have any extra equipment I might be able to use for one day?”

  “If this will get me off yours and Blanca’s list of suspects—yes. What do you need to see?”

  “Are you going to the funeral tomorrow?” Turner said he was. “Get your clothes. You’re not coming home tonight.”

  “I’m liking this plan less and less.”

  Turner pulled a suit out of his closet. It was the only one he owned. He explained to Cam that it was his wedding and funeral suit. In another closet he grabbed a black suitcase. “You want sound?” he called. Cam said he did and Turner picked up a backpack. Emerging from the closet he said, “If you know which seat Darren’s going to sit in I can place a microphone right under the pew.”