Chief Hutchinson spoke. “We are nowhere Mr. Reno. We have some allegations from you that were supposedly communicated to you from a, now, dead man. We know that you were at this Amos Duncan residence and we know that the bomb was detonated about the same time you were there. We know that the ex-Mayor’s wife has hired you to investigate her husband and we know you witnessed a dinner meeting at The Manhattan Club and claimed it to be mysterious. What we don’t know is anything about a secret file and we don’t know if you placed the bomb or if someone followed you and they set the bomb."
That got my hair up. “Wait a minute chief. First, I don’t know if anyone followed me or not – but I doubt it. I didn’t even know where I was going. I mean, it’s possible but very unlikely. And for what reason would I want to kill these people – that makes no sense.”
Sheriff Scruggs spoke. “Carson, what we know for sure is that we have two dead people. Two people murdered in a very deliberate and hideous manner. Everything else is just hearsay from you – no facts, no substance, no nothing.”
“OK guys. This interrogation is over. I shared my information with Larry and truly believe what I heard from Watson Clark and Bernie Taylor to have some merit. My client, Monica Jeffers, is looking for a divorce – that is the sum total of my involvement in this situation. I simply followed instinct. I believe there is more to Barry Lassiter’s death than what has been reported and I shared that belief with Larry. Now, you charge me if you have evidence – otherwise you can reach me in my office – please make an appointment!”
With that said, I got up and left. Pissed would not describe my mood – I was mad.
Larry met me at the elevator. “Carson, go home. I’ll meet you at ‘Down Under’ in a couple of hours.” He turned around and then turned back. “By the way, Leroy Epsee is looking for you.”
“Leroy? How did he manage to call you?”
“He didn’t. I called him last night looking for you. When we talked, he asked me to have you call him when I located you.”
“OK.” Was all I could manage.
I headed the Ford back to my apartment and tried to analyze what had just happened. Somebody in that room was scared – scared of what I might know, or what others might know. I needed to find that file and intended to do just that.
~
A ndy had not yet opened the bar – guess I opened it for him as his first customer. He fixed me a burger for breakfast and I settled in to wait for Larry Parker. I trusted Larry and believed, somehow, he had staged that meeting – not sure why, but I figured to find out when he got here.
It was almost noon when Larry settled in at the stool next to mine. He didn’t say anything and ordered a Vodka Tonic from Andy. We both sat in silence for the next five minutes.
He spoke first. “Carson, I know you’re pissed. But what I did was necessary.”
“Enlighten me,” I said.
“Carson, you and I have been friends for a long time. I trust your judgment and have never questioned your intentions or integrity. However, in this case, you are walking on some very thin ice and against heavy political power. This meeting was necessary for two reasons – first to assure your immediate safety and second to let the chief and sheriff know that you weren’t just somebody on a witch hunt.”
“My safety?”
“These guys play rough and, if what you believe is true, they have some political muscle behind what they do. They would not hesitate to kill you and we would probably never find your body – I believe that. Getting this out to the chief and sheriff was necessary – whether they are involved or not. If they are involved, it isn’t likely they would come after you right away. If they aren’t involved, then it was important that they know the facts.” He was serious.
“Okay, let’s me and you get back to a ‘me and you’ conversation. Can we?” I asked.
“Please let’s do.”
“Larry, I wasn’t followed. Which means the bomb was there while I was there – I was just lucky not to be present when it went off. Which also means that whoever blew up that trailer believes they have destroyed any file or any remaining evidence that Watson may have had."
“Okay. I’ll buy that,” he said.
“Which brings me back to Bernie Taylor. I believe either Bernie has the file or has some knowledge of where it might be – it wasn’t in that trailer – I can tell you that,” I nodded.
“I know that, but I didn’t want the people in our meeting to know that. We can’t find Bernie and that isn’t good. He lives alone and neighbors haven’t seen him since Saturday. He hasn’t been back to work since talking with you. What does that tell you?”
“It tells me he’s scared or maybe dead. If he’s alive and knows about the bombing, and he surely does, you may never find him. But, for some reason, I believe that file is hidden somewhere in plain sight. Somewhere no one would think about and somewhere Watson or Bernie couldn’t get to. Remember, Watson said he would destroy the file, if he had it. And I can assume from that, he would have had Bernie do the same thing. Make sense?”
“Yes, it does. What are your ideas?”
“I’m going to the Commercial Appeal office tomorrow and ask some questions. That file is somewhere in plain sight and I’m going to try and find it.”
“Okay, Carson, stay in touch. I promise to return your calls and I also suggest you take that gun out of your glove box and keep it handy. Understand?”
I did understand.
He got up to leave and then turned around. “Did you ever call that Gibson County Sheriff, Leroy Epsee?”
“Not yet. Frankly I forgot. I’ll do that now. Walk easy Larry, I’ll talk with you later.”
“I hope so Carson, I hope so.” I wish he hadn’t put it that way!
~
I went to the pay phone and called Leroy. Oddly enough he was in his office.
“Leroy, Carson here. Larry told me you were looking for me.”
“Yes, thanks for calling me back. No big deal, but I wanted to ask you about someone who was at the party Friday night.”
“Sure, who?”
“Charlotte Luckey. Did you see her at the party? Can you add any information?”
“Information? About what? Yes, I saw her at the party – who didn’t? She is pretty hard to miss. You know what I mean?”
“Yes I do. Anyway, her mother started calling here on Saturday saying she never came home after the party. She hasn’t stopped calling and has called almost every hour since then. There isn’t much we can do, but I thought I would at least talk with you and see what you might have observed.”
“Leroy, this girl is shacked up with somebody – probably that rich boyfriend and she’ll come home when she gets good and damn ready. Why waste your time with this?”
“I know, I know – but the mother keeps insisting something is wrong. We found her car parked at Bailey Park, but nothing suspicious. Her boyfriend, Phillip Chaney, flew his plane out on Saturday – after spending the night somewhere in Jackson. We are just trying to do our job – I’m sure she will show up – hangover and all. Is there anything from the party that we should know?”
I shared with Leroy the events of Friday night surrounding Charlotte Luckey.
“Do you need me to do anything here – in Memphis?” I asked.
“Nope. Just covering our bases – I’ll call you when she shows up.”
I hung up, went back to the bar and got very drunk. I drove the elevator home sometime before midnight.
The Missing File
F rom the Peabody parking garage I headed straight for the kitchen. It was early – 11 o’clock. Having an office at the Peabody allowed me to eat in the employee dining room – usually for free. Their large kitchen prepared food for the various hotel restaurants, room service and contracted catering. That meant there was always food left over and it was free to employees and tenants.
The bacon, eggs, toast and coffee were a real relief to my aching head. Food, along with a couple of aspirin, almost made me feel lik
e a human being again.
I let Marcie know I was back in town and then quickly went through my mail and messages. There was nothing interesting. Several calls from Monica, calls from Leroy and a call from Bernie Taylor – that call had come in Saturday. I assumed this to be a home number and I returned the call – no answer.
I would call Monica later, but wanted to see what I could learn at the Commercial Appeal before I made that call.
I told Marcie I would be back in an hour and headed over to their office – it was just a short walk.
I was going to need all my charm, so I took it out and put it on before walking up to the reception desk.
Greeting me was a pretty, but somehow plain young lady. Her dark hair was pinned to one side with a silly looking clip and her blouse was buttoned all the way to her chin. Underneath her ‘too much’ makeup and lipstick, I assumed you would find an aspiring newspaper reporter who has ended up answering the phone and handling visitors. Her nametag read ‘Peggy’.
“Hi Peggy. My name is Carson Reno,” I said as I handed her my card.
“I remember you Mr. Reno – you were here the other day looking for Mr. Watson Clark.”
“Right! I can’t believe you remember me – you must see so many people.”
“Yes, but you left me your card then too. See, I still have it.” She showed me both my cards. A very efficient receptionist.
“Peggy, I am working on a case and I wonder if you could help me?”
“Is it about Mr. Clark and his wife? Them being murdered?” She seemed sad.
“Yes, it is. Would you like to help?”
“Sure, but what can I do? I just answer the phone, greet visitors and distribute the mail. I really liked Mr. Clark and would do anything, but I can’t imagine what I could possibly tell you.”
“Is there an employee break area or cafeteria where we might talk – and can you get away for 15 or 20 minutes?”
“Sure. Follow that hall and then through the large double doors – that is our cafeteria. Grab a table and I’ll join you in a few minutes,” she instructed.
I got some coffee and was scanning today’s paper when Peggy came into the cafeteria. She also got coffee and joined me.
“Peggy, I am looking for some papers that Watson would have had that he didn’t want anybody else to see. Do you have any idea where I could look? Old files, undelivered mail, dead story files – anything?”
“Nope. Whatever there might have been has already been destroyed, reassigned or stolen.”
“Stolen? What do you mean stolen?”
“A few weeks ago we had a robbery – which is really strange. This building is always open – we print papers around the clock. But someone broke into the office area and went through a lot of files – especially those files in Watson’s office. After that, the editor reassigned all his work and cleared out his office. There is nothing left.”
“No undelivered mail, deal letter files nothing?” I was coming up empty.
“Nothing. Nothing except maybe that courier who was trying to deliver a registered package. He’s been here on several occasions looking for Mr. Clark. When I tell him he no longer works here, he just leaves. Could that mean something?”
“Yes it could. Do you remember the name of the courier service?” Bingo – I had something!
“I believe it was called Chase Courier Service. We use several, but I think that was the name. And Mr. Reno – guess what?”
“What?”
“He was here again on Saturday – the same day we learned about Mr. Clark’s murder!’
I thanked Peggy and promised to let her know what happened. I couldn’t get out of there and back to my office fast enough.
I entered the Peabody lobby by the Union Avenue East door – I didn’t get very far. Standing in front of my office door was Bubba Knight, and that was one person I really did not want to see. I turned around and ran smack into Bobby James.
“Hi Carson, long time no see.” He had his hand inside his coat.
“I know Bobby, my apology. I’ve been meaning to get together with you and Bubba to catch up on old times, but haven’t found the chance.”
By that time Bubba had joined our little party and I was surrounded – if that’s possible.
Bubba spoke. “Carson, is there some place we can talk?”
“Yes – right here in the lobby. I like public places – don’t you?”
Bobby’s turn. “Suit yourself. We are here to deliver a message and we don’t deliver messages but once – so listen closely. Up until now you haven’t given us any reason to pay you a visit. Up until now you’ve kept your nose out of our business and tended to your lonely housewives with unfaithful husbands. But word on the street is that you are branching out – that isn’t a good idea. If you want to keep doing your little ‘marriage counseling’ detective business, while still using both legs, you will put that snooping nose back where it belongs. Am I understood?”
“Bobby – I am so proud of you. When did you learn to put that many words together all at one time? You’ve been taking night classes – right?”
Bubba’s turn. “Carson, that mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble.
“Bubba, you need to take some lessons from you friend Bobby – he’s going back to school to enhance his education. He’s able to put more than 10 words together at one time – which is a definite improvement. And speaking of improvement – I understand you both have been promoted. The B and B boys are steadily moving up the corporate ladder of crime. Congratulations.”
Bubba was ready to throw a punch but Bobby stopped him.
Bobby’s turn. “Ok, smart ass. You’ve been warned – and we don’t deliver messages twice. Our next visit won’t be public and it won’t be nice.”
“Thank you guys for stopping by this morning. If you’ll let me know ahead of time, I can arrange coffee or maybe some drinks and snacks. Stop by whenever you’re out of jail – we’ll do lunch.” I was walking away quickly and, happily, still in one piece. They left through the door I had used, and disappeared down Union Ave.
I stopped by Marcie’s desk to get the phone book.
“Were those two guys friends of yours?” she asked.
“No – but why do you ask?”
“They’ve been hanging around here all morning. I asked to help, but they said they didn’t need any help. I didn’t like them – they weren’t nice.”
“Marcie, you are a good judge of character – they are not nice guys.”
I took the phone book to my office and quickly looked up the number for Chase Couriers. A cordial young female voice answered on the second ring.
“Chase Couriers – ‘we mean business’ . This is Theresa speaking – how may I help you?”
“Theresa, my name is Carson Reno and you can help me by answering a couple of questions. Can you do that?”
“I don’t know. You’ll need to ask the questions first – I’ll certainly try,” she was sincere.
“What happens when you have a certified delivery, with signature required, and you can’t deliver that item?”
“Mr. Reno, it depends on why we can’t deliver. If the person refuses to sign, we will return the item to the sender. If the person isn’t available, we leave a number for them to call and schedule a delivery. If we make 4 attempts without delivery, we return the item to the sender. Is that what you want to know?”
“Yes. I have another question. What would happen if you were unable to return the item to the original sender?”
“Well, Mr. Reno – that would be unusual. Why would they not accept the return? After all, it is their item.”
“Suppose the original sender was dead when you attempted to return the item?”
“Oh my! I don’t know. I suppose we would continue to try to deliver to the original receiver – I guess. Actually I really don’t know the answer to that question.”
“Okay, Theresa. Let’s just pretend that did happen. How long would y
ou keep the item and what would be the disposition? I mean how long would you continue to try to make delivery before doing something else?”
“Undeliverable items are held for claims – assuming the sender, recipient or some legal representative of either party would file a claim. We do send out notices when this happens – but Mr. Reno – we just don’t have many circumstances like that.”
“Can you tell me if you have a package in claims for a Mr. Watson Clark?”
“No, I cannot do that.”
“Can you tell me if you have a package in claims for a Mr. Barry Lassiter?”
“No, Mr. Reno, I cannot do that either. I can’t give you any of that information.”
“I didn’t ask for the package, I just asked if you had one.” I was trying.
“I know what you asked and the answer is still no. We are a licensed confidential courier service. We do not give out the names of any clients or any delivery or receipt information. Sorry.”
“Theresa, thank you for your time – I’ll be back in touch.”
I called Larry Parker. He was actually in his office.
“Larry, I think I have found the file. But we’re going to need a court order to get it.”
I explained what I had learned at the Commercial Appeal and what I had learned from Theresa at Chase Courier.
“But you don’t even know the package is there?” he argued.
“I know they have been trying to deliver a package to Watson Clark, and I’ll bet you a steak dinner that package contains the file we are looking for. They couldn’t deliver to Watson, so they tried to return it to Lassiter. Unfortunately, he had already taken a dive off the 100 North Main building. So they just keep trying to deliver on both ends, with no success. Watson knew this and knew that he would need to return to the Commercial Appeal to get the file. I think he intended to do this and, probably would have destroyed it - but the bad guys got to him first. Had they waited, he might be alive and the file wouldn’t exist. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“What if I visit Chase Courier and see what I can find out? I’ll flash the badge around and maybe they’ll tell me something. I would be more comfortable going to a judge if I knew the package actually existed. Let me try and I’ll call you back. You be in your office?”
The Price of Beauty in Strawberry Land Page 9