by Jason Deas
Cam could hear Claude fumbling with the lock. While he did, Cam took the opportunity to push the attic door back down as a test to see if he could see what Claude was doing once he was in the house and to hear if the door creaked. He discovered that he could see a sliver of the living room and the door only made a noise if pushed past a certain point. He tried to slow his breathing as he waited for Claude to find success with the lock. It didn’t take long for him to conquer it and Cam took one more deep breath as Claude pushed the door open and entered the room.
“Darren,” Claude said to the room, “Soo-ee! Soo-ee! Here Piggy Piggy!” Claude twirled around. “A little piggy lives here.” He made some oinking sounds. From his pocket, he pulled a man’s wallet. Getting down on all fours, he lifted the fabric from the bottom of the couch and peered under. Claude slid the wallet under the couch. Looking around the room, Claude said once again to the air, “How should I play this, Piggy? Watch out, Piggy?” Claude opened the same drawers Cam had. He didn’t see anything he deemed worthy. Lined on a shelf in the den were Darren’s tobacco pipes. Claude eyed them. With a handkerchief, he pocketed the one carved with an Indian head. “Oink, oink,” he said, leaving the house and closing the door behind him.
Cam listened for the truck to leave. When it did he pushed the attic door down, and shook it until the ladder unfolded. He hadn’t expected the delay and hoped he wouldn’t cross paths with Darren on his return home. Opening the front door, Cam took one last look at the room and wondered how long it would take for Darren to notice his Indian head pipe missing. He also wondered what Claude’s plan was with the hidden wallet and the stolen pipe.
As soon as he was sure Claude was at least a mile down the road, Cam headed out. He stopped at the first gas station in town and bought a six-pack and a Georgia map. Not wanting to cross paths with Darren or Claude, who might have stopped for gas or a snack, Cam studied the map for a different route home.
Instead of the one hour it should have taken, it took him two hours to get home. When he arrived back in Miner’s Bluff, Cam drove straight to the police station, hoping Blanca would be there. As he parked the car he unwrapped two pieces of cinnamon gum and popped them into his mouth. He chewed furiously as he approached the front door of the station.
The inside of the station was quiet. Cam called out to announce his presence. Blanca called back. “In here,” she yelled.
Cam walked into her office and asked, “Did I miss anything?”
“No. Not unless you were hoping to see Alice making a scene. It was embarrassing, really. You would have thought they were newlyweds. I have a feeling she was crying for another reason, but for the life of me I can’t figure out why. From what I know, she hated Billy. She was worried and suspected he was abusing their daughter verbally, and possibly physically. She gets most of his money. She gets some of the land. What has her upset?”
“I have a theory,” Cam said, sitting down in the chair across from Blanca’s desk.
“Let’s hear it.” Blanca scooted forward in her chair. “And for the record, the gum doesn’t really cover the beer smell.”
“I’m not really sure what you’re talking about,” Cam slid his chair back a bit. “Tell me if this makes sense. Claude and Alice are having a physical affair. During their time together, Alice tells Claude all the terrible things Billy has done to her and their daughter, Kaye. Wanting to be the knight in shining armor, Claude formulates a plan to get rid of Billy. Originally, Alice agrees and thinks it’s a great idea, but when the idea is real—she freaks. She can’t handle the thought that she is part of a murder. And that is why she is so upset.”
“Interesting. How do we go about proving it?”
Cam told her what he’d witnessed at Darren’s.
“It’s a start, but we sure can’t say what you witnessed since you basically were breaking and entering.”
“I have a feeling the pipe will show up somewhere soon, and then we may be able to get a warrant to search Darren’s house. We’ll find the wallet, and then we’ll go from there.”
“How does this lead us back to Claude?”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I didn’t take the wallet out to look at it, but I’m assuming it’s Billy’s. I’m guessing Billy’s wallet wasn’t in his pocket?”
“No. The only things he had on him were his clothes and the radio dial in his mouth.”
“What about the map? Didn’t he have the map in his pocket?”
“No. I already told you that. You really should slow your drinking. Maybe he had it in his hand when he was attacked and it blew away.”
“We need to go back to the murder site and walk a larger perimeter to see if we can find anything else.” Cam ignored the comment about his drinking.
Blanca’s phone rang. She shook her head up and down as she said, “Uh huh, uh huh. I’m on my way.” She hung up the phone. “That didn’t take him long. Somebody just spotted a bunch of black smoke coming from the direction of the murder site.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Rowdy processed the evidence they’d collected and faked the dates on the paperwork. He picked up the phone and dialed the state crime lab. A young woman’s voice answered and asked how she could direct the call.
“I sent some evidence with a courier a few days ago and I need to make sure it made it, please.”
“If you don’t mind holding for a moment, I’ll transfer you to someone who will be able to help you.” Rowdy thanked her.
The next voice was another woman. An older one. And jaded.
“Good afternoon,” Rowdy said. “This is Chief Rowde with the Hayes Police Department. How are you this afternoon?”
“Busy.”
“Then I’ll get straight to the point. I sent a courier over there to deliver some evidence a few days ago. I wanted to make sure you received it.”
“Your courier should have the paperwork with the proper signatures.”
“I can’t seem to get a hold of him.”
“So, you want me to do his job and mine, too?”
“I’m just trying to solve a murder case, ma’am. I’ll dance at your wedding if you’ll check for me.” After he said it, Rowdy knew he should’ve picked a different saying.
“I got married thirty years ago, just recently kicked his butt to the curb, and don’t plan on doing it again.” Before Rowdy could backtrack she said, “Hold.”
As he held, Rowdy looked at the package on his desk. He went over the lines he’d practiced in his head.
“Chief Rowde, I can’t find anything from your department.”
“What?” Rowdy said. “I can’t believe this. I just found the package under the front desk. I’m so embarrassed.”
“You should be,” she said, deadpan.
“I’m just going to deliver this myself. Will you please make a note that there was some sort of misunderstanding and my evidence from a few days ago never made it there?”
“As soon as we get off the phone I’ll write up a full report,” she lied. Deadpan.
“When I get there I hope I can shake your hand.”
“Don’t forget your dancing shoes,” the woman said, hanging up the phone.
Rowdy grabbed the package, told Dell he would be gone for a few hours, and headed out. He didn’t see Kyle’s car sitting in the parking lot as he left. As soon as Rowdy’s car was out of sight, the newspaperman exited his car and headed into the station.
Dell greeted him with his usual friendliness. “Well, hey Kyle. Are you working on a big story?”
“No,” Kyle lied. “I just needed to pay a parking fine. I was parked downtown the other day by one of the meters and lost track of time. I got a ticket and just wanted to take care of it.”
“We don’t do that here. You have to pay that at the courthouse.”
“That’s right,” Kyle said, slapping his forehead. “I knew that.” He laughed, trying to put Dell at ease. Dell laughed with him. “Hey, let me ask you a question. Before Cam left town I
let him borrow a little money. I never got it back and I really need it. You don’t happen to know where he is, do you?”
“Who?” Dell asked trying to give his mind time to think of an answer that wouldn’t get him in trouble with his older brother.
“Cam. Cameron Caldwell.”
“Oh. That Cam. Nope.”
Kyle could tell by the way he was fidgeting he was lying.
“Have you ever been in the paper?” Kyle asked.
“No. Rowdy has though. They had his big old picture on the front page one time. It was back when our mom was alive and she was real proud.”
“I bet you’d like your picture on the front page.”
Dell’s eyes lit up as he imagined it. “Rowdy would be jealous.”
“We had a front page story a few weeks ago with a huge picture of a lady who found a diamond ring and returned it to the owner. She was a hero,” Kyle said, almost feeling guilty for his exaggeration. “If you could help me get my money back I would think of you the same way.”
“I … he’s … I don’t know,” Dell placed his hand over his mouth.
“If you remember,” Kyle gave Dell his most engaging smile, “call me. I’ll have my best photographer come over to take your picture for the front page.”
Dell nodded that he understood as he continued to hold his hand over his mouth. Kyle took one of his business cards out of his pocket and set it on the counter in front of him.
It took Rowdy two hours to make it to the state crime lab in Decatur, Georgia. He walked in the front door with the package clutched firmly in his hands. A young lady at the front desk greeted him, and Rowdy imagined her as the first person he’d talked to when he called.
He tried to act important when he said, “I believe I spoke with you earlier on the telephone. You transferred me to another lady who informed me my package had not arrived. Is she here?”
“I remember your voice,” the young lady said. “I transferred you to Dolinda. Are you sure you want to talk to her in person?”
“I’m sure,” Rowdy said, as he studied the fear in the young lady’s eyes.
“Okaaay,” she drawled out the word while picking up her phone.
A few minutes later, Dolinda emerged from the back. She spied Rowdy and her sullen face dropped.
“Let me guess,” she said. “Mr. Dancing Shoes?”
“That’s me,” Rowdy said. He put on his best fake smile and shook his shoulders as he stepped forward and back, then side-to-side.
“When they said white people couldn’t dance, they weren’t lying.” She walked toward him and reached her hands out for the package. Rowdy handed it to her.
“When do you think I’ll hear from you?”
“I make sure my favorite people get straight to the top of the priority list.”
“And, I’m not one of your favorites?”
“No,” she said, as she disappeared into the back.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Blanca and Cam sped toward the fire in a police car with the lights flashing and the sirens blaring. As soon as they left the department parking lot they could see the plumes of black smoke billowing into the air.
As the side of the road flew by his window, Cam said, “Could we stop and get a couple beers?”
“I hope you’re kidding,” Blanca said as she powered the car around a corner.
“Of course I’m kidding.”
“We never know with you, drunky.”
“What does that mean?” Cam asked as the car dipped to the right and threw his body against the window. Blanca’s hands bounced on the wheel as she fought the curve.
“It means that you’re a drunk. It means that everybody knows it. And it means we never know which you we’ll come across.” Blanca slammed on the brakes, slid around a corner and floored it again.
“Damn!” Cam said. “How did you learn to drive a car like this?”
“Don’t change the subject. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Cam was about to speak when Blanca pressed both feet to the floor on the brake. Cam’s head hit the dash as she goosed it again. His head shot back and Blanca timed it perfectly as she braked and shot his head forward to smack once again on the dashboard.
“You did that on purpose,” Cam said, rubbing his forehead.
“Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t. It might have knocked some sense into you. Our package didn’t include airbags. Not the way cops drive.”
Blanca slammed on the brakes once again when they arrived at the crime scene. Black smoke drifted through the trees and they both knew there was no doubt the fire was blazing close to the murder site. Blanca popped the trunk and grabbed a fire extinguisher.
Running toward the smoke they heard the sirens of the fire trucks getting closer. Directly on top of the spot where Billy’s body was found they discovered three tires, burning and billowing smoke. Blanca pulled the pin from the extinguisher and emptied the contents into the depths of the black. When the contents of the fire extinguisher were gone the bootfalls of the fire fighters crashed through the woods. Hours later, the flames had been killed but puffs still escaped from the red and orange lungs of the fire and would need to be monitored.
One of the firemen asked Blanca for direction and she told him to take his crew and leave. She told him she could handle it. When the last of the boots slipped away through the trees, she began walking around the fire site, studying the ground. It only took her a few seconds to find it.
“Here it is,” she called to Cam. Slipping gloves on her hands and pulling an evidence bag from her back pocket, Blanca hovered over the Indian head pipe. Taking care to pick it up she deposited it in the bag and turned to Cam. “Now what?”
“Well, now we have a reason to search Darren’s house legally. We’ll find Billy’s wallet and go from there.”
“Why would Claude try to frame Darren?”
“Aside from the obvious reason that he hates him, I don’t know unless he did it and is trying to get off by putting Darren in our crosshairs.”
“We need to find a reason to search Claude’s place and we can’t get a warrant by saying you broke into Darren’s and witnessed Claude planting evidence.”
“I have something I haven’t told you.”
“What?”
“I guess in a way I was trying to protect Claude because I thought there was no way he could have done this. He seems like such a nice guy. I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I’m sorry.”
“Spit it out, Cam.”
“When we were at his house, I saw an old radio in a pile of his sculpture materials. The radio was missing a dial.”
She stared at him without saying a word. Dropping her head, Blanca began walking back toward the car.
“I said I’m sorry,” he called after her.
She turned, fire in her eyes. “You are sorry! A sorry excuse for a cop who got fired because he was a drunk. A sorry private investigator who can’t keep his mind on the case because he’s constantly thinking about booze. Most people would learn from their mistakes and change. Not you. You just keep doing what you’ve always done and you keep getting the same results. Cam, I hate to say this but you’re a real loser.”
She stormed ahead out of the woods. Cam let her go. He wanted to give her a chance to cool off before he got in the car. Cam counted to ten and headed toward the car as he heard her crank the engine. The next sound he heard was the spinning of tires and gravel. When he emerged from the woods she was gone.
Cam waited; he was certain she would be right back and was just trying to make her point. After ten minutes he knew she wasn’t coming back. He called Daphne.
“I need a favor,” he said, when she answered.
“You need a ride?”
“How’d you know?” Cam told her where he was.
Daphne pulled up and rolled down her window. She stuck her hand out of the window and handed him a beer. Cam opened it and poured the contents of the bottle on the ground at his f
eet.
“I’m done,” he said, as he looked her in the eyes. “Take me to my house and let’s get rid of the rest.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, as he climbed into the car.
“Positive.”
She drove away in silence. After they had navigated out of the woods and were off the dirt road and onto the pavement she asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I think I need to make a change. I’ve been hiding behind my eyes for so long I’ve made a real mess of my life. I can’t keep doing this to the people in my life or to myself.”
“As much as I want to see you quit, you can’t do this for other people. You have to do it for yourself.”
“I know. I’m doing it for me.”
“OK. I’ll support you either way. Maybe you should sleep on it and decide tomorrow.”
“No. I’m done. Let’s do this.”
Cam asked Daphne to line up the contents of the fridge on the counter next to the sink. He explained he would find all the other bottles he had stashed around the house.
“Do you want me to pour them down the sink?”
“No. I think I need to do it.”