James Ross - A Young Adult Trilogy (Prairie Winds Golf Course)

by James Ross

  The extra light was a bonus for Morgan and Stud. The images in the cave became clearer. Their position near the cave’s main entrance allowed for an accommodating remote signal. The Presto broadcast was picture-perfect, much like the quality they had gotten in the casino.

  As the chamber filled with hooded and masked members, what appeared to be the hierarchy of FOBS assembled in the staging area. Everyone wore black robes, but none were disguised. Tanner Atkins looked presidential. Buchanon Porter held the customary cocktail. Congressman Raymond Parsons shook hands, slapped backs and kept an overly familiar smile on his face. Captain Doyle O’Callahan was there in the middle of them and J Dub deduced the Mediterranean looking man was Philippe Vaugh-Purdy V.

  J Dub swore that he recognized someone else. It was the guy that was with Pamela Porter at Stub’s Missing Digit on the night that Pabby picked all the winners in the Seven is Heaven pool. That had to be Farley Bend, the local alderman. On that day he wore the purple water buffalo headdress and had accompanied his girlfriend to the table where Captain Jer was applying the press-on tattoos.

  Now Judge Porter held a drink in one hand and the purple water buffalo headdress in the other.

  As the clock neared twelve, various head ornaments were put in place. The twisted tribute was to the sinister gods of the Iroquois and Pawnee tribes. A purple helmet went on Philippe’s head. A giant mask with oversized eyes and gaping mouth went on Tanner’s head. Chief O’Callahan became a grizzly bear. Giant claws went over his hands. The huge head of a water buffalo was worn by Judge Porter. Congressman Parsons wore a mask with an oversized beak and beady eyes. A set of wings were placed on his back. Other headdresses honored a wolf, cow and eagle.

  Chants from the chamber had been building and now intensified to nearly a roar. They appeared to beckon the hierarchy identified in the chants as chiefs. A procession of leaders formed and quickly filled the stage. Chief Purple Helmet called the meeting to order.

  “Welcome to the Southern Illinois chapter of the Friends of Bighead Southstar!” Chants in unison responded. Rigid left arms rose to the sky. When they dropped, the chamber grew silent. All heads bowed. Suddenly a single yell reverberated through the chamber. A signal to the gods perhaps? An invocation? All torches were lowered. The other lights extinguished. The room went dark. The silence added mystique. One minute seemed like an eternity. Then a thunderous BOOM rocked the chamber!

  To those in the perch it sounded as if a Civil War cannon had been fired.

  One by one in what looked like a prearranged pattern the torches again illuminated the room. “The first order of business is the initiation of a new member,” Chief Purple Helmet proclaimed. A man dressed in a hooded black robe approached the stage. “As you all well know there are different rights, limitations and requirements for initiation into the southern Illinois Order of the Friends of Bighead Southstar. Different levels of commitment have been established and adhered to. Supremacy is rewarded for earthly actions.”

  Ritualistic chants added eeriness.

  “With the intentional or unintentional act of human sacrifice membership status is elevated. With that comes additional opportunity and protection.”

  The new member turned so that his back was to the membership. He bowed his head. His hood was removed and his mask replaced with the head of an antelope. He was proclaimed Chief Running Antelope and turned to face the crowd. A series of chants that sounded more like yips increased in volume.

  “That’s Farley,” J Dub mouthed.

  “Welcome Chief Running Antelope!” A roar followed. Chief Running Antelope became animated. He did a dance which seemed rehearsed and part of the ceremony. When it concluded he opened his mouth. A sinister roar from some pre-recording blasted through the speakers.

  As chants continued in an unbroken roll Chief Running Antelope pranced. “The confident steps bring new life!” The figure jumped back and forth across the stage. “The fresh energy perpetuates our society!” One moment became three. A constant, low octave buzz remained in the chamber until Chief Running Antelope disappeared behind a curtain.

  “In order to cleanse the membership we must put the past behind,” Chief Purple Helmet continued. “The atonement begins!”

  The grizzly bear led the procession. Two members, each wearing a feathered Native American headdress, appeared as a sort of Sergeant of Arms. They bracketed a FOBS member with a hand on each elbow. The member was hooded and appeared to be shackled around the ankles. He was halted in front of a makeshift witness stand.

  Tanner Atkins with oversized eyes and gaping mouth acted as the attorney while Judge Porter in his purple water buffalo head presided. To J Dub it was unfathomable that Pamela would have access to her husband’s costume and that she would allow her boyfriend to wear it to the Top Hat function. Preliminary banter was exchanged on the stage.

  “Did you not benefit from the union contract that was awarded to you and your company?”

  “Yes.”

  “But from there you chose not to contribute.”

  “That’s not totally true.”

  “You’re aware of your obligation for the favoritism?”

  “I’ve performed in the past.”

  “A ten percent duty is demanded, yet no money was returned.”

  “There was a mix up.”

  “From two years ago?”

  “An oversight.”

  Chief Water Buffalo banged his gavel repeatedly. His comments boomed. “Which we contend is greed!” The lecture began. “Words cannot express my disappointment and your utter disregard for the rules and bylaws of the Friends of Bighead Southstar society. We have dutifully delivered in our pledge to provide favoritism and have gotten nothing in return! The preferential treatment that has been extended to you and your family over the years has been disrespected. That is a grievous action!”

  “It was not intentional.”

  “We believe otherwise. You’ve had more than enough time to correct the matter.”

  “I’ll do it now,” the member begged.

  “That’s against our bylaws and consequently you are shamed.”

  The member bowed his head. “There is no second chance.”

  “Please, Your Honor!”

  “With full knowledge of the penalty you are banished!”

  Enforcers advanced to the witness stand. Protests from the accused were desperate and futile. The black cloak was removed despite a struggle. Within moments the accused was led to a totem pole next to the cage. The upright structure symbolized the scaffolding of Pawnee lore. He was strapped face first to the pole, his arms securely wrapped around.

  “Let the atonement commence!” Chief Purple Helmet exclaimed.

  Another chant began. This time the words were clearly understood.

  Southstar slices of the pork

  Amply filled for Bighead’s fork

  Southstar carvings of the swine

  Easier for the Bigheads to dine

  Bigheads have an appetite

  As the Southstar guards the night

  Bigheads salivate to the taste

  While the Southstar leaves no waste

  In the eerie conditions the chant echoed repeatedly through the chamber. Members of FOBS individually passed the accused. Each grabbed a hatchet with a razor sharp blade and made a cut into his body. Blood dripped onto the floor. After making the cut each member placed their torch into a holder on the wall. They then exited the chamber and left the cave.

  In time, the yells of the accused turned to whimpers. Blood poured from him as the room emptied. The men acting as Sergeants of Arms reappeared and the straps were loosened. Before being dragged to the wire cage the weakened victim was laid face down on the floor.

  “Let the blood revitalize the earth!”

  The engine from a semi-tractor trailer roared to life. Whimpers from the cage turned to blood-chilling screams. The vehicle backed past the brewery entrance stopping at the cage door. The rear hatch of the cage was raised and eig
ht boars charged forward honoring the gods.

  Chants from the outside began.

  Pigs get killed, hogs get slaughtered

  Pigs get killed, hogs get slaughtered

  Pigs get killed, hogs get slaughtered

  Pigs get killed, hogs get slaughtered

  Within fifteen minutes the atonement was over. The boars snorted and chuffed at what remained of the accused. They were prodded back into the trailer.

  It looked like FOBS had an answer for everything. Soon after the tractor trailer pulled away a small brewery panel van arrived. Twelve tagged and clipped vultures were released into the cage. J Dub recently witnessed a similar savage occurrence, albeit an attack by Otto on a duck. On this one the vultures ferociously picked away at whatever clung to the bones. Anything that remained was soon devoured.

  When that process was complete an unidentified person arrived on a brewery forklift. What looked to be a 55-gallon drum of some kind of acid was delivered. The two enforcers, now wearing masks, shoveled the remaining scraps into the drum. Power hoses operating from an endless supply of brewery water washed lingering fluids out the cave entrance, down the bluff wall and into the Mississippi.

  J Dub, Julie, Morgan and Stud stared in shock.

  In the wee morning hours the car of the accused was driven into the river. The investigation would determine it was a suicide. No body. Forever missing. Or swept downstream to sea.

  CHAPTER 86

  “That beats anything I’ve ever witnessed in my life! And that includes the birth of my first child!” Julie yelled to DeWitt as Doc helped her to her feet. She followed J Dub through the opening. It was three o’clock in the morning.

  The retired barrister had a cooler full of refreshments. He offered her a drink. “Calm down. You folks did well. We received the Presto signal of the whole ceremony. Doc and I sat in the front seat and watched.” Julie grabbed a bottle of green tea as Doc assisted Morgan.

  “I hope it lived up to your expectations.”

  DeWitt nodded. “That and more. We’ll go out to breakfast and I’ll answer any questions that you have.”

  A few minutes later all four had emerged from the cave safe and sound. DeWitt headed toward the 24-hour diner. Winnie’s was east of the river by several miles. The ground was high and away from the flooding, the fog non-existent. At fifteen minutes after three in the morning the diner was deserted. It was too late for the drunks that had closed the bars and too early for the farmers. Only a trucker or two sat at the counter.

  “Did that answer any questions you might have about who you’re dealing with?” DeWitt asked after the table for six was filled and the drink orders placed.

  “You owe me a month’s worth of lunches to explain that debacle,” J Dub replied. “I certainly wouldn’t confuse them with the Knights of Columbus or the Lion’s Club.”

  “That is child’s play compared to what you just witnessed.”

  “How did you know that was going to happen?” Julie asked.

  “I have my ways. I was an active lawyer once.”

  “Were you in that organization?” J Dub asked.

  “I won’t answer that question. It doesn’t matter one way or the other.”

  “It does too.” Julie pressed.

  “Look, Everett came to me several months ago and said that you were having a tough time with lawyers, the court system and the police department.” DeWitt looked at Doc. “I told him that I would help throw some light on the situation.”

  “There wasn’t any light in that cave, by the way.” Julie’s attempt at humor didn’t hit anyone’s funny bone. She sipped her coffee and against caffeine odds tried to calm down. In a very hushed voice she continued, “We witnessed a murder tonight.”

  “Not only that, but we have it recorded,” DeWitt confirmed “That live video phone reception is going to change our lives as we move into the future.” He flashed a satisfying smile.

  “You said we could ask questions.”

  DeWitt nodded. He was getting ready to say something when the waitress came and took the orders. When she left he reminded the group to speak quietly. “What do you want to know about?”

  “Start with the eighth death.”

  “The big boys out of Chicago got their way. Both parties realized that there was too much money to go to war with each other. The corruption and control moved south in return for protected shipping lanes. Southern Illinois was solidified as a stronghold for vice.”

  “What’s that have to do with the Purdy Palace?”

  “Philippe the fourth negotiated the deal. It was better to join them during Prohibition than fight them. Then the corruption spilled into the courts, law enforcement and politics. The boys in this part of the state could do anything they wanted as long as the boys up north got cut in on the action.”

  “So that was why the guy was fed to the boars?”

  “Of course. It’s not the first time or the last time. If you get crossways with the boys out of Chicago there is no place for you to hide.”

  “So where does that put us?” J Dub asked. “Aren’t you scared for your life?”

  DeWitt pondered his response. “No, not really. I died several years ago.” Then he responded to the first question. “Let me take it from here. What you did tonight is so big that public pressure will not allow for it to continue. You’ve got all the big shots on tape committing heinous felonies. The public won’t stand for it. We’ll get the action that we need from the prosecutors on something as shocking as this.”

  “Fill in all the blanks for me,” J Dub pleaded. “We were in the cave. The entrance to the brewery and the freight docks, rail stops and distillery kettles were right before us. We could glance out the entrance of the cave…”

  “ . . . It was huge, by the way,” Julie added. “It looked like you could reach through the scattered clouds and touch the stars.”

  “Worshiping the heavens is a big part of the Pawnee myths,” DeWitt informed.

  “The Purdy Palace looked to be less than a pitching wedge away,” J Dub continued. “How is all of this ultimately going to help me save the golf course?”

  “Wall Street eventually caused the Purdy brewery operation to be sold after an aggressive expansion. Part of the deal was for the family heirs to keep the property on the bluff, the original family home and the old brewery in the cave on the bluff. Vaugh-Purdy the fifth took advantage of an opportunity to get into the micro-brewery business.”

  “What does he make?”

  “You’ve seen some of the smaller labels out there. He makes Pure Philippe, Granny’s Scratch, Blue Melon, Soaring Eagle Wheat and Lighthouse Ale. A vineyard is on some of the property up there. They make a cabernet sauvignon called Purdy Red and a Chablis called Purdy White.”

  “So that is where it is made,” J Dub said.

  “The fifth had the rail system set up. The semis could get there for shipping. The river was a stone’s throw away.”

  “More like an easy six-iron into the drink.”

  “I don’t golf, but I’ll take your word for it. I know that it is close.” DeWitt smiled at the waitress as she delivered the plates of food. “The fifth then converted the house into a bed and breakfast rather than selling it. Take a trip up there on a clear day and try to figure out how far you can see.”

  “From our vantage point in the cave we could see out of the hole in the bluff. A layer of fog was below us on the river, but the clouds had pretty much cleared and allowed us to see a lot of stars in the dark sky.”

  “It’s the perfect meeting spot for their needs. The community leaders, shrewd businessmen, union chiefs, upscale lawyers, corrupt politicians, dishonest judges and cops on the take are all part of the organization. They can get away with murder and have for decades.”

  “Until now?”

  “Hopefully, this will expose them and ultimately help you.” DeWitt looked at Morgan and Stud. “I’ve been involved with these two on some other projects.”

  J Dub t
urned to Morgan. “I never knew that was what you did.”

  Her Southern accent made him melt. “I like to keep it that way.” She looked at Stud who was busy shoveling food into his mouth. “And so does he.”

  “So that’s it?” Julie asked.

  “Pretty much.”

  “What’s your motive in this whole mess?” J Dub asked.

  “Let’s just say I got double-crossed in a business deal by an old partner. When the time is right maybe I’ll fill you in some day.”

  “I’m still not clear on how all of this is going to help me get rid of this lawsuit,” J Dub said.

  “Yeah, we saw one guy get murdered. Another guy was initiated because he had killed another,” Julie said in a hushed tone. “Don’t we have other things to concern ourselves with?”

  “We’ll play our trump card real soon and try to take them all out.” DeWitt washed down some hash browns with a drink of water. “These are evil people that have gotten away with atrocious acts for a long, long time.”

  J Dub put some jelly on his last piece of toast. “I understand Tanner and his role in my lawsuit. Obviously he is connected to Judge Porter.”

  “Yes.”

  J Dub took a bite and was deep in thought. “You don’t think that Pabby was the unintentional victim that allowed for Farley to be initiated, do you?”

  DeWitt raised his eyebrow. Doc gave J Dub a solemn look. “I don’t know, but the ingredients are there.” DeWitt reached for his pipe. “Look, you witnessed the way these guys operate. Someone was killed. Someone was initiated. The legal process is skewed. The investigative process can be corrupt. The recipe to cover up is right before your eyes.”

  “What do you mean a cover up?” J Dub asked.

  “You saw the chief of police in the room. Now you understand his connection to the people that run Footprints of Hope.”

  “Who would do that?”

  “Probably Tanner Atkins and his good buddy.”