Driven Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 4)

by Robert Tarrant

  After he sat back down, opened his new beer and took a long drink, Bennett said, "When I met Amanda she was so full of life, beautiful and energetic. Even though she worked two jobs and had a three-year-old kid she was so . . . so alive. Now she's just a muttering old woman waiting for her body to die. Her spirit died years ago." He fell silent as he slowly rotated the beer can he held between his hands.

  After a minute, PJ broke the silence, "I saw that you adopted Jessica. Obviously, you loved her as well."

  "Yeah, I loved her. I loved her mother and Jessica was a miniature copy of her. She never knew her father and it took her a while to warm up to me, but after a while she and I became real close. She even went with me sometimes on my delivery routes. You know, the short one-day trips."

  PJ asked, "Why did Jessica change her name back to her mother's maiden name when she was sixteen?"

  He shot back, "Why does anyone do anything when they're sixteen? Who knows what goes through a sixteen-year-old's head. They sure as hell don't." He paused and then said, "Jessica had some cock and bull theory that it would help her better identify with her heritage or some such nonsense. Don't know what heritage she was talking about, Amanda didn't have any family. Both of her parents were dead before I met her and she had a brother up in New York somewhere, but she never heard from him. Don't even know if he's still alive."

  PJ spent another thirty minutes asking questions that alternated from a picture of the family at the time of Jessica's murder to facts that seemed to be established at the trial. The more he talked the more it sounded like Bennett was away more than he was at home during the months leading up to the murder. It occurred to me that it might be good to reread his testimony with his absence from the home in mind. How much, about Jessica's activities, did he know and how much did he speculate? A competent defense attorney would have flushed that out at trial, but Robinson didn't have a competent defense attorney.

  It became obvious that Bennett was becoming bored with our presence as he started asking questions of us. Who did we work for and what exactly were we doing? Questions we didn't want to answer precisely. PJ danced around the answers and hastily concluded the interview telling Bennett we had another appointment. It didn't seem to dawn on him that we hadn't had an appointment with him, or if it did he didn't say anything. We left promising to be in touch with him with anything new we learned.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Neither of us spoke as PJ backed the car down the two ruts we had followed in from the road. No doubt there was some place to turn a vehicle around in the sea of weeds surrounding the house, but PJ didn't want to chance getting stuck in the soft sandy soil. Couldn't say I blamed her.

  After backing onto the road PJ asked, "Well, what did you think of Daniel Bennett?"

  I replied, "I couldn't help but wonder if what we see today is what existed ten years ago, or if the murder of Jessica dramatically changed him like it did her mother."

  PJ nodded, "My thoughts exactly." She glanced in the mirror at the house retreating behind us and added, "Still, something about him, can't put my finger on it, just something."

  "You mean besides him being a lecherous drunk? I'm surprised you don't want a cigarette after all the sex he had with you in there. I was about ready to break that chair laying on the floor over his head."

  "Whoa big boy. You can't sweat the small stuff. Lots of guys think they can get the upper hand that way. The best tact is to just stay focused and ignore the looks and comments. I hardly even notice anymore."

  I scoffed, "At least it was a nice place. I feel like I need a shower and I didn't even sit down."

  PJ grinned and said, "Maybe now you know why I always wear dark slacks and jackets. You ain't seen nothing yet. Good thing you're a lawyer and not a cop. Your genteel sensitivities wouldn't serve you well in the world of a cop."

  "Wow, I've been called lots of things, but genteel was never one of 'em."

  "I may have exaggerated to make my point."

  We drove back into Pineywoods in search of somewhere to have lunch and plan our next step. We found a cafe at the end of a side street not far from the shiny new park. The sign standing atop the flat roof covering the small cinder block building, both long in need of a paint job, announced Pappy's Cafe. Inside was a counter with a dozen stools and about another dozen small tables. The smell of fried food hung heavy in the air. One stool and two tables were occupied for a grand total of five customers at the height of the lunch hour. Well, seven if you counted us.

  We took a table along the wall and perused the menu. It leaned heavily toward deep fried everything. From alligator nuggets to hot dogs wrapped in fry bread. With the smell of grease so heavy in the air nothing looked that appealing. PJ muttered something about trying the chopped salad wrap. I settled on the chef salad wrap with the hopes that the pita wasn't deep fried. Glancing at the stained and nearly empty coffee pot behind the counter I opted to join PJ in her drink of choice, Coke.

  By the time the young girl working the counter and waiting tables had come to take our orders, we'd noticed that the presence of obvious non-locals had attracted the attention of all five of the establishment's patrons. PJ asked, "Mind if we eat on one of the picnic table outside? It's such a nice day."

  The girl's face looked as if we'd ask her to kiss her brother. She replied, "Suit yourselves. Just come in to get your order in a few minutes. I can't take it to you out there. Pappy don't like me to leave the place unattended." I could understand that, the crowd might run amok in her absence.

  I waited inside to receive our Cokes from Ms. Congeniality while PJ went outside to pick a table. I joined her at a table under a huge bald cypress tree that stood between Pappy's and a small stream that appeared to be patiently waiting for the rainy season to replenish the small trickle of water moving down the center of its channel. We had noticed the three tables under the tree when we drove in. They were in remarkably good condition when compared to the remainder of the establishment. I couldn't help but wonder if they had once been a part of a federal government park project.

  I handed PJ her Coke and she said, "Thanks. It's better out here. I don't think a word we said in there would have gone unnoticed. I would prefer that the whole town didn't know we're poking around just yet."

  I asked, "What's the next move?"

  She gestured toward her cell phone laying on the table, "I looked up that Greenhaven in Arcadia. With the bridge closed west of here, to get to Arcadia we'd need to back track quite a bit. I'd like to talk to the mother, but it may not be the best use of our time at this point. If she's as bad as Bennett says we probably won't learn anything useful anyway. We'll save that for another day."

  I nodded and said, "Makes sense. So, what's plan B?"

  "During our little tour of the main street I noticed the local newspaper, the Trafford County Register. It occurred to me that the only news articles we have seen are the ones contained in the defense attorney's files. We know how incompetent he was. Maybe there's information contained in articles he never bothered to retain. He didn't even request a change of venue, so he wasn't exactly keeping his finger on the pulse of public opinion."

  I said, "Yeah, a motion for change of venue in a high profile case like this in a small town would be pretty routine. Probably wouldn't get granted, judges and prosecutors don't like the inconvenience, but you'd ask anyway."

  "I looked online last night when I was researching, but the Register doesn't have anything online. No current or archived articles."

  I replied, "Given the fortunes of the area I doubt that the local paper is investing in being on the cutting edge of modern technology."

  I went inside and retrieved our wraps from the end of the counter where Ms. Congeniality had left them. As I walked back to the picnic table a black and white police car with Pineywoods Police stenciled on the sides drove into the parking area. While I was resettling onto the picnic table bench across from PJ the officer was exiting the car. He wasn't a tall man, probably no m
ore than 6 feet, but he was big, probably around 280 pounds. Built like a small bull he reminded me of a short, white, version of Moe. The fabric of his uniform sleeves straining over his biceps practically screamed . . . steroids.

  He stared directly at us as he slowly walked to the door of Pappy's. At least he was looking toward us as he walked. It was impossible to see where his eyes were looking through his mirrored aviators. From the amount of gold braiding on his uniform hat I surmised he was the chief. That or a vacationing general from some third world country.

  After the chief had entered Pappy's, PJ looked at me and said, "Well, so much for the whole town not knowing what we're here for."

  "Nobody inside knows who we are, or why we're here. We're just strangers stopping in for lunch."

  "Think about it Jack, how many people do you think just pass through Pineywoods these days? You saw the sign. With the bridge out you can't even go west from here. No, no one is here unless they have business here. I'll bet you the price of lunch that on his way out he stops to talk to us to find out what our business is in his quiet little town."

  Just as I said, "You're on," the door opened and the chief emerged carrying a white paper bag which I guessed contained his lunch. He ambled back to his car and opened the driver's door. I smiled at PJ and said, "Looks like I win."

  PJ replied, "Really?" I looked up to see the chief drop the bag onto the seat of the car, close the door and start his slow amble directly toward us. With each step our reflections grew larger in his mirrored sunglasses.

  Before he could speak PJ looked directly at him and smiled, "Afternoon chief. If that's your lunch in the car, you're welcome to join us. It's really pretty pleasant out here under this tree. Nice breeze today."

  He nodded very slowly. I didn't think the nod signaled agreement with what PJ had said, but was a 'tell' of his confirming to himself some type of assessment he had already made about us. His voice was a deep rasp, "Don't believe we've met, you are Ms.?"

  "Johnson, Patty Johnson and this is my associate, Jack Nolan." I nodded as if confirming my name.

  "And what brings Ms. Patty Johnson and Mr. Jack Nolan to Pineywoods, Florida?"

  In a casual tone PJ replied, "We're looking into the Parry case, one last effort at finding her body before Robinson gets the needle." I was momentarily confused with her reference to the Parry case, but then realized that the victim was Jessica Parry and that's how the police would refer to the case, by the victim's name not the defendant's.

  The chief hooked his thumbs into his gun belt in his best John Wayne impersonation. I was getting tired of staring at my own reflection in his glasses, so I looked down and took a bite of my wrap. The chief said, "That's what I heard, got a call from Butch Bennett. He said somebody'd been around to see him. From his description, it had to be you." I couldn't help but wonder what Bennett's description of PJ had been. Borderline salacious no doubt.

  "Butch Bennett, I take it that's Daniel Bennett?"

  The mirrors nodded, "Yeah, everyone from around here calls him Butch. But of course you're not from around here." I wanted to reply, Thank God for small favors, but luckily my mouth was full.

  A look of concern crossed PJ's face and she said, "I hope we didn't upset Mr. Bennett. In no way was that our intent. We were hoping that after all of this time something might have occurred to him that could be helpful. Finding Jessica's body should help bring some closure."

  The rasp turned into more of a growl, "You don't think if he had thought of something useful he would have already come to me with it?"

  PJ's voice remained calm, almost soothing, "I didn't think he would recognize anything that might have occurred to him as significant, unless asked. And I certainly didn't think you could possibly have the time to continually touch base with him on the off chance he might remember something that would help. My gosh, the case has been closed ten years. I never had time to look back at a closed case, certainly not one closed by conviction, and I was far from having the responsibilities of a chief."

  He inhaled deeply through his nose, consistent with his image as a bull, and asked, "You were a cop?"

  PJ nodded and replied, "Yeah, sixteen years Hollywood PD."

  You could almost smell the gray matter burning as he processed what PJ had said. He was struggling to make the connection. Then suddenly he reached up and removed his glasses, sincere admiration showed on his face, "You're that detective from the shootout a few months ago. You killed both perps. Your partner was killed."

  A cloud crossed PJ's face. "Yes, Tim Donovan was killed."

  His voice softened some. "By all accounts you did everything you could. Lucky you made it out alive yourself." Both fell silent, evidently lost in their own thoughts. PJ's no doubt more troubling than the chief's.

  Hoping to lighten the mood and pull PJ back from a dark time I said, "You're sure welcome to join us Chief. Grab your lunch and sit down." It was the only thing I could think of to say.

  He turned and looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. His dark eyes were cold and penetrating. He said, "No thanks. I've got to get back to the office. City council meeting this afternoon and I haven't finished preparing my report yet." He looked back at PJ, "So who would hire you to look for Jessica Parry's body at this late date?"

  PJ said, "What?" as if she hadn't heard the question, but then continued with, "Oh, my boss. He has our agency do a certain amount of pro bono work. Usually, cases he thinks no one is interested in, but could have a positive benefit for someone if solved. I don't know the connection, but evidently he felt if we could find Jessica's body it would bring closure for any number of people. Seems like with Robinson's execution looming it might be the last opportunity to have any chance of success."

  The chief nodded, but his face didn't really reflect acceptance of PJ's explanation. He put his glasses back on and said, "I don't think there is anything to be found. We squeezed that black bastard pretty hard at the time and he didn't give us anything. My theory is that he dumped her in a canal and the gators did the rest." He rubbed his hand across his chin and added, "Got to tell you that this case was a pretty big deal around here. Jessica was well known and liked. People are pretty sensitive about it. I'd be careful if I were you. Tread lightly."

  PJ and I both nodded as if we'd just been given sage advice for which we would be eternally grateful. With that he touched the brim of his hat and said, "Good day detective." He turned and strode back to his car. Obviously, something in the wrap I was eating had rendered me invisible.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The chief's car left a small cloud of dust as it pulled from Pappy's parking lot. I exhaled fully for the first time since he'd walked up to our table. PJ took the first bite of her wrap and said, "Hey, these wraps are pretty decent."

  I said, "I didn't really notice. Too distracted by our visitor."

  PJ smiled and said, "Don't let Chief Hard-Ass bug you. He's pretty stereotypical. Big frog in a small pond."

  "I have to admit PJ, you're pretty fast on your feet. Nice story you're spinning about us being in this to find the girl's body."

  "Always best to stick as close to the truth as you can. My firm is doing pro-bono work. Finding her body would bring some closure for the family, and the town. That's all true. The rest is just a little murky, but with any luck we'll either find something useful, or determine there is nothing to find, before the water clears and anyone realizes our primary purpose."

  I said, "I'm surprised that Bennett called the chief so quickly. Wouldn't have thought they would be on quite such close terms."

  PJ nodded and said, "I'll admit that surprised me, too. From the looks of Bennett I would have guessed any contact he had with the local police would have been less than buddy buddy. Unless he's one of those happy go lucky drunks, and I don't peg him for that at all."

  As we finished our lunch I asked, "Still plan to go to the local newspaper?"

  PJ balled up the paper napkin she had been using and tossed it into
the empty cardboard basket that had contained her wrap, "Don't see what it can hurt. Maybe we'll get lucky and find something in the archives." A bright smile lit up her face, "As I recall, you're buying."

  "One step ahead, paid when I picked up the wraps. You don't think Ms. Congeniality was going to let me walk outside without paying first."

  "Girl's brighter than I gave her credit for."

  We drove back to the main street and parked in front of the Trafford County Register. The building, with 1941 chiseled into its cornerstone, looked like it had been well kept over the years. This was in stark contrast to those on either side. When we entered the front door an old fashioned bell attached to the top of the door jamb tinkled. The interior of the office was neat and orderly, but as dated as the customer announcement system. A few feet from the entrance a counter ran the width of the room. Behind the counter stood two wooden desks. The interior decor and furnishings look as if they had been there since the building was constructed. The only break from the feeling that one had stepped back in time were the computers on each desk and the electric coffee maker on a small table at the back of the room.

  The door to a small office in the rear corner of the area opened and a short man with a full head of shocking white hair emerged. He was a slight man who looked to be about eighty years old, but he walked with the confident stride of someone in his prime. He wore an open collar white dress shirt and dark slacks with suspenders. His lively blue eyes darted back and forth over us several times as he approached. His greeting was a warm, "Good afternoon folks. How can I help you?"