Jason Deas - Cameron Caldwell 01 - Private Eye

by Jason Deas

  “What if he reaches under there for some reason?”

  “He could touch it and it’d just feel like a bump. It’s not the kind of mic you’re thinking of.”

  “Most funerals have an area up front roped off for family. I imagine in this case it’ll be just one row. Blanca’s meeting us over at the Methodist church. Let’s go.”

  Blanca was waiting out front in her car when the guys arrived. She exited the car when she spotted them.

  “We sure do appreciate this, Turner. And we hope you understand the second part of it where we have to keep an eye on you so we can be sure you don’t blab.”

  “I’ll be comfortable at Cam’s for one night,” he said.

  Blanca shot Cam a look. “You didn’t tell him?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “You’re staying with me,” Blanca said. “In my jail.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  “I wish she was,” Cam said, slapping him on the back. “It’s one night. No big deal.”

  “I’ll only do it under one condition,” Turner said to Blanca. “Cam has to be in the cell next to me.”

  “Fine with me. Now let’s get to work.”

  Blanca retrieved the key from her pocket and Turner slapped Cam on the back. “It’s one night. No big deal.”

  Once inside the church, the crew found the lights and locked the doors behind them. The sanctuary was of the small, country church variety. Turner immediately began looking around scouting places to hide the cameras.

  “See if you can find a stepladder anywhere, Cam,” he said, spying the cross at the front of the chapel. “I can sit one on the cross, which won’t be visible to anyone. If I can get up there it will give us the perfect vantage point. The two sides of the chapel each had three windows with deep ledges and stained glass. “I can probably put another one on one of those ledges if you can find me a ladder.”

  Cam left the chapel and began his search of the rest of the building. He looked in the kitchen, the choir room and the Fellowship Hall. He checked room corners and closets. Finally, he came to a closet door marked Maintenance, which was locked. He inspected the lock to find it was an older variety. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and found his expired library card. He slid it between the door frame and the latching device, pushed on the door and twisted the handle and had the door open in less than ten seconds. At the back of the closet stood an eight foot stepladder.

  When he returned to the chapel with the ladder Blanca and Turner stopped their conversation.

  “Were you talking about me?” he asked.

  “In fact we were,” Blanca said. “Your friend here just talked me into something that I would have never thought would happen in my lifetime. Since there is nobody in the jail tonight, I have agreed to let you boys have a bottle of Knob’s Creek whiskey with you.”

  “You’re all right, Turner. You know that?”

  “Give me the ladder and let me get to work,” he said, smiling.

  Turner opened his suitcase and began assembling his equipment into different piles. He also had a tablet in the case, which he turned on. As he organized, he asked Cam to set the ladder up in front of the cross. A few minutes later, Turner was on the ladder with one of the tiny cameras and a roll of duct tape. He set the camera on one of the arms of the cross, taped the wires to the back of the cross and descended the ladder. The tablet had booted; he inserted a password and waited. Once the tablet was ready he opened a program and waited. He typed in a few commands and a view of the sanctuary popped onto the screen.

  “I just need to adjust the camera angle a bit,” he said to Cam. He pointed a palm-sized remote at the camera and the view gradually changed on the screen. “I’m thinking I want it to get the first half of the seats. We’ll set the other one to get just the first two rows.”

  “What powers the camera?” Cam asked.

  “Batteries. It’ll be good for at least seventy-two hours. We’re good. Move the ladder to the first ledge over there,” he said, pointing. “I’ll get the second camera ready.”

  They repeated the act and had the second camera focused on the first two rows of the sanctuary’s left side in less than five minutes.

  “We can put two mics on the first two pews. We just need to somehow orchestrate with the minister to have the family sit in these rows.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” Blanca said.

  Turner tested the sound as Cam sat in the first pew and talked with Blanca. He gave them a thumbs up and began packing his unused equipment back in his bag.

  “Can I ask why you have this stuff?”

  “Deer hunting,” he said, with a sly grin.”

  “Really? Deer hunting?”

  “You can set them in an area you think might be a good hunting spot, and set them to detect motion, and then you know if you’ve picked a good spot or not.”

  “So, you don’t ever set them up next to one of your stills?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, trying to hide his face.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Blanca locked the boys in adjacent cells with their bottle of whiskey, cups, and a cooler full of ice.

  “I’ll be in at seven in the morning,” she said. “I don’t think any of the overnight officers will have to bring anybody in, but if they do, please hide the whiskey. I’m not exactly sure how I’d explain it. I’ve already told the officers on duty, but I don’t want it to go any further than that.

  “You forgot to put a chocolate on my pillow,” Cam joked.

  “Good night, boys,” she said, walking out of the lock-up area.

  Cam took two plastic cups and filled them with ice. He opened the bottle of whiskey and filled both cups. He handed one through the bars in the cell to Turner.

  “Cheers,” Cam said. The two touched cups and drank. “Good times.”

  “You don’t really think I’d tell anybody what we did tonight, do you?”

  “Sometimes I don’t know what to think, Turner. But deep down, no. I don’t think you would tell and I don’t think you even know who did it. Do you?”

  “No. I didn’t like Billy, but I didn’t have any reason to kill him. And if I did, I surely wouldn’t have cut his hand off and left it in the middle of town. I would have made it look like an accident where there wouldn’t be any investigation necessary.”

  “Do you know what it feels like to kill someone?”

  “Unfortunately, I do. I’d like to say it feels awful, but when you’re in combat it just feels like relief. It feels like you get to keep on living for a few more minutes.”

  “What was Iraq like?”

  “It was a nightmare. It was also one of the best times of my life. I know that sounds strange,” Turner took a long pull from his drink, “but it’s true. Did you ever go to summer camp as a kid or go on a long road trip with friends?”

  “Sure.”

  “The camaraderie is amazing. I made some lifelong friends. Some I’ll never see again.” Turner handed his cup back to Cam for a refill. Cam opened the cooler and added a couple of cubes and more whiskey before handing the cup back. Turner took a sip and got comfortable on the bottom bunk. “You ever have to kill someone in the line of duty?”

  “I have,” Cam said, refilling his own drink. “A guy drove past one of the gas stations in town one night when I was on duty and witnessed a robbery in progress. I got the call and showed up as the perp was leaving the station. I parked my car behind his so he couldn’t leave and he fired two shots into my windshield. I got out of my car as he ran around the side of the building.” Cam drank. “I ran around the building the other way and we met at the back. He brought his weapon up to fire at me again but before he did I fired one shot into his chest. That’s all it took. He was dead before I got to him. He died for two hundred and twenty-seven dollars.”

  “Damn. Did it haunt you?”

  “It tried to, but I wouldn’t let it. I did the right thing. It was kill or be killed.
”

  “Can I ask you another personal question?”

  “Sure. Jailhouse confessions,” Cam said, laughing.

  “Why did you come here?”

  “It’s complicated. I found out my Chief had committed a murder. As you know, I have a drinking problem, and one night when I was heavily into the liquor I exploded. I couldn’t keep in what I knew any longer. I went into a rage and spewed.”

  “What happened? I’ve seen the YouTube video, but I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

  “I was thrown in jail. When I sobered up the next morning, the Chief was waiting for me. I told him what I knew and he acted like I was crazy. There really was no way he could know what I knew. He decided I was guessing.”

  “But you were sure?” Turner handed his cup back through the bars for a refill.

  “No doubt,” Cam played bartender. “In his haste to cover up his misdeeds and get rid of me he gave me two options. I could either stay in town and he’d pin the murder on me, or I could disappear and never look back. I chose to disappear. I think if he had it to do all over again he would have kept me. But I surprised him so much that he didn’t have time to think it through. He wouldn’t have had enough time to fake the evidence to pin it on me.”

  “So, do you think he’s forgotten about you? Are you in the clear?”

  “No. He’s coming for me. He has to tie the case up in a nice little bow, and I’m going to be the fall guy. Now that he’s had time to think and plan, it’s only a matter of time before he comes.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure he’s planted evidence to convict me. And it would even suit him better if he had to kill me. Then I wouldn’t be able to testify against him. I’m sure when he comes he’ll find a reason to kill me in the process.”

  “Then you have to be ready and kill him first.”

  “And what, hide the body?”

  “Give me my refill,” Turner said, reaching for his cup. “I have an idea.”

  Cam handed him the drink he’d been holding.

  “How old is he?” Turner asked. Cam told him he was in his early sixties. “Perfect. Sixty-year-olds have heart attacks all the time, right?”

  “He does have a heart condition.”

  “He does?”

  “Yeah. He’s had it for years. Why?”

  “Have you ever heard of the CIA’s heart attack gun?” Cam said that he hadn’t. “Well, in about 1975, the information was declassified that the CIA had invented a heart attack gun for assassinations. The gun shoots an ice bullet with poison, which penetrates clothes and skin without being detected in an autopsy. The ice bullet gives the person a heart attack, melts, and nobody is the wiser.”

  “Are you saying you could build this gun?”

  “Does the Pope wear a funny hat? I’m sure with a little research and a call to a friend or two, I could.”

  “My God, I don’t know.”

  “Do you really have a choice?”

  “I don’t. Do it,” Cam said, getting up and walking to the bars, which separated the two men. “Build it.”

  The funeral was packed. Billy did have a good number of friends, but he also drew a crowd of gawkers and enemies. The closed casket sat at the front of the church. People shuffled in slowly and took their seats as soft music played through the church’s sound system. Blanca spoke with the minister, swore him to secrecy, and he had ushers direct Darren, Alice, and Kaye to the row Blanca and Cam had hoped they would sit in.

  Turner sat in the balcony, alone with his tablet to monitor the audio and video feed. The stairs to the balcony area had been roped off and marked closed. He booted the tablet, turned on the program, and found everything working as it should. Cam had already taken a seat on the opposite side of the room from the Prescott’s. Pretending to stretch his back, he looked up to the balcony and Turner gave him a subtle thumbs up.

  The minister approached the pulpit and the hushed conversations throughout the chapel ceased.

  “Today is a sad day for our community,” the minister began. “We’ve lost one of our own to an untimely death. Death is always hard, but when it comes unexpectedly, it is even harder. I would like to open today with prayer. Let us pray.” The crowd bowed their heads.

  Turner did not. He continued to watch his screen and pushed a button to zoom the side camera on Darren and Alice. As the masses closed their eyes and lowered their heads he witnessed Darren turning his head to Alice and winking. Kaye’s eyes were closed as Darren slid his hand up Alice’s leg to her thigh. He tickled his fingers under the hem of her short skirt as she suppressed a giggle.

  As the prayer ended, Darren and Alice lifted their heads as if they had been participants in the holy communication. Turner continued to watch the zoomed camera as Darren retrieved an abandoned bulletin from the previous Sunday and a pencil. In the margin of the bulletin he wrote, “$16,000,000.” Upon seeing the figure, Alice’s head snapped toward him. She raised her eyebrows and Darren nodded. They turned their attention back to the minister and feigned attention.

  As Alice listened to the minister, Darren scratched over what he’d previously written. He put the bulletin back in the pew and set his eyes on the minister. The service ended without any other observable interactions between the two.

  As soon as the last person left, Turner descended from the balcony to find Cam and Blanca. The procession of people was headed to the graveyard for the lowering of the casket. They stayed behind to exchange notes.

  “Did you happen to see anything?” Cam asked.

  “I think you’re going to be very pleased,” Turner answered.

  Turner explained all he had seen and recorded. “I’m afraid they didn’t say anything the mics picked up, but I’d say the physical contact plus the sixteen million dollar figure Darren wrote is very telling.”

  “It’s great circumstantial evidence,” Blanca said, “but we’re going to need more in order to move forward with the case. We need something from Darren’s house or Alice’s.”

  “How long do you think they’ll be at the burial site?” Cam asked.

  “At least an hour,” Blanca answered. “Why?”

  “No reason,” Cam said. “Call me when you see Darren leave town.” He turned to Turner. “You left your car here last night, right?” Turner nodded. “Give me the keys. I’ll return it to you this evening.”

  Turner reached into his pocket and tossed Cam the keys to his car. Cam took them and headed for the door. When he reached the door he turned around. “Blanca, you and Turner get over to the graveyard and call me as soon as Darren leaves. It’ll give me an idea of how much time I have. You can get your equipment later, Turner.” He left before either of them could ask any more questions.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Cam nearly drove the wheels off the car to Darren’s. He wanted to make sure he had plenty of time to search the place before he returned. As he pulled into Darren’s drive his phone rang.

  “Take your time,” Blanca said. “The graveside service just ended and I asked Darren to come to the station for questioning. He’s following behind me right now. I’ll keep him for at least thirty minutes. Good luck.”

  “You’re the best.”

  Just in case someone happened to drop by, Cam parked the car behind a shed on the side of the property.

  Cam opened the car door and thought of the dogs. He hoped they weren’t in the house and wondered what he’d do if they were. He remembered Darren yelling the word “pen” and speculated what would happen if he yelled the word. As the car door slammed his fears were calmed as the dogs started barking from the pen.

  Wondering and hoping that all three dogs were in the pen, Cam approached the front door and knocked loudly. He listened carefully for movement inside or noise. Not hearing any, he tried the door. As he expected, it was unlocked. Darren didn’t expect visitors.

  Cam entered the dwelling. The mess inside was just as he remembered. He thought it wou
ld be easy to shuffle through Darren’s belongings without him detecting anything had been moved. Not exactly sure what he was looking for, Cam started with the drawers. He began with the two end tables and an old coffee table in the living room area. The drawers in the coffee table had a pair of finger nail clippers and a pile of clipped nails, some of which looked to be toe nails. He quickly shut it and tried to get the image out of his head. One of the end tables contained a few issues of Guns & Ammo, batteries, a long piece of string, and a black plastic comb. The other end table held an instruction manual to the television, a dog collar, and a copy of the map Claude had given him. Bingo!

  The hallway ceiling leading to the bedroom had the opening for the attic. Cam pulled the door down accompanied by the ladder and walked up the creaking stairs. At the top of the ladder he found a hanging light bulb and pulled the metal chain. It looked as though nobody had been in the area for years. A thick layer of dust covered the plywood floor. Cam ran his finger through the dust and was certain nobody had been in the attic in a long time.

  In the bedroom, he looked under the bed, which surprised him by being free of clutter. Lifting the mattress to see if Darren had hidden anything between it and the box spring he found some things he could have gone his whole life without seeing. Darren had eclectic tastes in magazines. Rifling through the closet and the rest of the bedroom, Cam didn’t find anything else to raise his suspicions.

  As he was about to make his way back to the car he heard a noise from outside. Peeking through the blinds he spied Claude’s truck. Cam ran to the back door. He opened it not realizing that the dog pen wrapped around the house and filled the entire back yard. A dog showed his teeth and began walking toward Cam as he quickly shut the door. Running back into the living room, his head spun as he looked for a place to hide. What in the world is he doing here?

  Cam peeked out the blinds again as Claude dug something out of his truck—he knew he only had about thirty more seconds to find a hiding place. Cam turned his head to the hallway, remembered the attic and the piece of string in one of the drawers and had an idea. First, he hurried to the front door and locked it. It was a simple lock, but he knew it would buy him at least another minute. Grabbing the piece of string, he ran to the hallway and the attic opening. Cam pulled the ladder down and quickly tied one end of the string to the bottom step of the folding stairs. He sprinted up the wooden stairs hoping his idea would work. Inside the attic, he grabbed the string and pulled. Nothing happened. He needed a different angle. Repositioning himself on the other side of the attic’s opening, Cam leaned down with the string in his hand and pulled on it again. This time the spring loaded ladder shot up. Luckily, he was ready and stopped it before it banged on the ceiling. With his other hand he was able to fold the ladder stairs and gently close the door.