March's Luck (Larry Macklin Mysteries Book 5)

by A. E. Howe

  I looked at the Pug, whose eyes were shut tight as his small body moved up and down with his rhythmic breathing. “I wouldn’t call that fascinated, more like comatose,” I said.

  “You should have seen him in the car when we pulled up to the house.”

  “Your car smelled of the best fried fish in north Florida. Of course he was excited,” I kidded her.

  “Now you saw the way he was watching her earlier. Alvin’s just worn out from following Ivy around,” Cara said in a last-ditch effort to convince me that Alvin was obsessed with something other than his stomach.

  “I wouldn’t mind wearing myself out obsessing over someone I love,” I said with arched eyebrows, which lead to a playful kiss and then on to other things.

  The next morning we packed some snacks for us and for Alvin before heading to my car. The weather was chilly, but the sun was already peeking above the trees as we drove out through my gate.

  We hadn’t gone more than a mile when my phone rang. I looked at the number and frowned. It was Deputy Julio Ortiz, who’d done too many favors for me to be ignored.

  “Hope I didn’t wake you,” he said.

  “No, I’m up and moving. What’s going on?”

  “I was working last night and happened to drive by that piece of land by the railroad tracks where the first Parrish murder took place. I saw a car parked down the road a bit—off the road, but not in a place where someone would park a car unless they didn’t want it to be noticed. You know what I mean? Anyway, I checked it out. No one was around. Maybe it just broke down or ran out of gas. I tagged it with a warning. But the best part… The registration matches that BOLO you issued last night for Joel Patrick.”

  My stomach dropped.

  “I drove by the spot again this morning on my way off shift. The car was still there,” Julio finished.

  “Thanks, Julio, I’ll check it out,” I said and hung up. Joel Patrick, the one-time boyfriend of Jane Parrish, whose father had turned up dead not far from where Patrick’s car was now parked. Not even a chance that this was a coincidence. And, for bonus points, Patrick had recently been seen riding in a red car that may or may not have been driven by my crazy ex.

  “I really, really hate to do this, but I need to swing by and check on something,” I said to Cara, meaning every single word.

  “Sure, that’s fine,” she said. I appreciated the fact that there wasn’t any irritation in her voice. “Does this have to do with the Parrish murders?”

  “Possibly. There’s a car that’s parked near where the first murder took place. Julio said it’s been there at least since last night and there’s no one around.” I didn’t go into any details about suspects. As an investigator, you can’t just go around giving out details about a case, even to people who you’re close to and who aren’t a part of the investigation. Leaks have a way of becoming rivers that can drown a person.

  I had to back-track a bit to get to the Parrish property. Assuming that I could check the car out, and possibly have it towed, it shouldn’t have been more than an hour before we were back on the road.

  I found the car pretty easily. The older model Mazda hatchback didn’t look like it had been cleaned in months. Peering through the cloudy windows, I could see that the back was filled with tools. I could make out drills, shovels and a ratty gray blanket covering what looked to be a metal detector. The doors were all locked. Julio had placed an abandoned car notice under the windshield wiper on the driver’s side.

  The clearing where the backhoe had been found was about a hundred feet back down the road. There was nothing where the car was parked except the small pull-off. There were a lot of similar places in the county where, in the fall, hunters parked their pickup trucks while they hunted for deer or turkey. The land in all directions was woods.

  If Joel was out here, I was sure his motives centered on the area where the holes had been dug. I got back in my car and drove further down the dirt road. I got out one more time to remove the crime scene tape that had been blocking the trail, then parked near the spot where the trailer had been found.

  “Sorry about this,” I said to Cara. “I’m just going to walk around and see if I can find the guy who owns that car, or at least see if he’s been here.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get out and walk with you. If that’s okay?”

  “That’d be great.”

  There was still a chill in the air, and here and there in the shadows were patches of frost.

  Cara scanned the area as Alvin trotted along at the end of his leash, sniffing the air as he went. “What are we looking for?”

  “No idea,” I said. “Something out of place.”

  “We’re looking for a body, aren’t we?”

  “I have to admit that the idea crossed my mind. If we do find a body, don’t let Alvin pee on it.” Alvin ignored my comment and pulled right and left, trying to follow all the exotic smells.

  We heard something crash through the undergrowth and we all jumped, but then I caught sight of the white tail bounding off through the woods.

  “Deer,” I said.

  “Is that a house?” Cara asked, pointing at the old chimney sticking up through the vines.

  “Yeah, what’s left of it. There are some other outbuildings that have fallen into ruin too.”

  I saw trails going every which way, but they all looked like animal paths. I decided to walk around the old house. There was still enough of it remaining that someone could have hidden a body under the fallen timbers and rotten wood. Heart of pine was used to build most homes in the county before the Second World War and some of those posts and beams would still be there long after I was gone.

  I thought I could hear a squeaking sound as I got closer to the ruins of the house. The ground was deep with vines and weeds so that I couldn’t see where I was walking. I was glad that I’d put on hiking boots. Rattlesnakes and cottonmouths weren’t a big concern this time of year, but the boots would help protect me from old nails and broken glass.

  The noise seemed to get a little louder as I got closer to a hedge of azaleas that had gone feral. They had probably been planted when the house was in use, but now they were huge and woody and covered in purple blooms.

  I had just brushed past some bushes when I felt my right foot touch… nothing. I went down hard. My left foot bent backward at an awkward and painful angle beneath me as my right foot tangled in the depths of the hole. My chest slammed into the ground, which kept me from falling all the way into the hole. A nail sliced into my right forearm.

  The noise I’d been hearing turned into yelling from below. I felt something grab the boot on my right foot and I tried to kick it off, but I couldn’t get any leverage. Whatever had clamped onto my foot wasn’t going to let go. I was stuck. Without being able to free my right foot, I couldn’t pull myself out of the hole.

  I tried to establish contact with my captor, but he was screaming so loud and fast that I couldn’t understand a word.

  Cara came running around the corner of the house, dragging Alvin behind her. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Not really. My foot fell in a hole and there’s someone down there holding onto my leg.” I could hardly hear myself over the screams of the man in the hole. “Shut up!” I yelled at him. “And let go of my foot!”

  “No way!” he shouted back. “I’ve been stuck in this damn hole all night.”

  “I can’t help you unless you let go of my foot. Damn it, I’m slipping. Do you want me to fall on top of you?”

  “You ain’t leaving me!”

  “You aren’t helping yourself, dumbass.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Cara asked, kneeling down beside me. I was using both hands to hold onto some wisteria vines, barely able to keep myself from slipping farther down into the hole.

  “Get my phone off of my belt,” I told her. As she reached around for my phone, Alvin decided to offer his support by coming up and licking my face. “Not helping,” I told the Pug
.

  With a little awkward tugging, Cara finally managed to retrieve my phone. “Should I call 911?”

  “Not yet. Try Darlene first.”

  “What are you doing?” shouted the man in the hole, who I assumed was Joel Patrick.

  “Trying to get us out of this hole.” I half thought about taking my gun and firing a round into the ground near the top of the hole to scare the moron into letting me go, and then I had a horrifying realization. My gun was in an ankle holster on the leg that he was currently clinging to. I hadn’t wanted to carry my Glock 17 on my belt when I was planning on a long hike with Cara, so I’d strapped a smaller Glock 43 on my ankle. Now my nerves were humming. This cretin, and possible murderer, was just a few inches from my only handgun.

  Cara found the speed dial for Darlene. I was rethinking the 911 call, but I knew that Darlene lived close by, and calling dispatch might get me the rookie of the day, which would be less than helpful.

  “Let go of my leg or I’m going to have my friend up here start dropping stuff down on top of your head. Do you hear me?”

  “You bastard!” he yelled.

  I toyed with the idea of telling him I was a deputy, but I wasn’t sure of his reaction. I figured it was better to not muddy the water while in my current awkward situation.

  Cara gave Darlene a short synopsis of the situation, then hung up. “She’s on her way. She said maybe ten minutes. Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

  “Find a couple of bricks,” I suggested and she headed off with Alvin toward the chimney.

  “Did you hear me?” I shouted down at my ball and chain. “My friend is going to get a couple of bricks from the old chimney. If you don’t let me go, I’ll have her drop them down on top of you.”

  “Don’t you dare,” was the answer I got.

  “Try me.” To say my position was uncomfortable would be an understatement. My arm was bleeding and I was wondering how badly I’d injured my left foot this time. I sighed and looked up to see Alvin staring at me from about six inches in front of my nose.

  “Got ’em,” Cara said.

  “Good. Tie Alvin up so he doesn’t fall in the hole and then come over here and kneel down.”

  Cara was back in a second and edged her way carefully to the hole.

  “Hold the brick over the hole,” I told her. “Look up!” I shouted down to the man in the hole. “Do you see that brick? Now listen carefully. I’m a deputy with the Adams County Sheriff’s Office.”

  “Just my damned luck,” the man whined.

  “I’m ordering you to release my foot. If you don’t, I’m going to have to ask this woman to let the brick go. Do you understand?”

  “Screw you!” he shouted.

  I started to count to three, but on two I felt my foot released. “He let go. Give me a hand,” I said to Cara. She put the bricks down and helped me drag myself out of the hole.

  Once I was standing I assessed my injuries. Besides the three-inch-long cut on my arm, I’d definitely twisted my left ankle. It hurt, but I could walk on it. I eased carefully back to the side of the hole.

  “We’ll be back in a few minutes to get you out. Are you Joel Patrick?”

  A long string of curse words came from the darkness.

  “Right. We’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere,” I told him and another stream of obscenities followed.

  I limped back to the car and pulled the first aid kit from my trunk while Cara untied Alvin. By the time I’d cleaned and bandaged the cut on my arm, Darlene pulled up beside us. I filled her in on our suspect and the situation.

  “I’ve got some rope in the back,” Darlene said and, sure enough, she pulled a coil of climbing grade rope and two pairs of gloves out of her trunk. “Never know when you might need to rappel down a building,” she said with a smile.

  We walked back to the hole. I started clearing around it to get some sense of where the true edges were.

  Hearing our approach, the man in the hole became a lot more friendly. “Hey! Hey, buddy, I was just kidding. I’ve been down here awhile. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Just get me out. Yeah, yeah, I’m Joel. Guess you found my car…”

  The words continued to flow as we prepped the rope. I have to admit that I thought about questioning him while he was still down there, but thought better of the idea. A defense attorney would probably frame that as coercive.

  “We’re going to drop a rope down to you. Tie it under your shoulders,” I said, tossing the rope down the hole. Darlene would be the anchor, and I’d pull him up. “Let us know when you have it tied off.” I could have given him some hints on how to tie the rope comfortably, but I must have forgotten.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” he shouted.

  “Ready when you are,” I said to Darlene. She nodded. “Hang on!” I shouted and we began to pull.

  A few minutes later Joel Patrick was sprawled out on the weeds a couple of feet from the hole. The lower half of his body was muddy and he was missing a shoe. The rest of him wasn’t much cleaner and he stank.

  “Oh, thank God,” he moaned and hugged the earth. He was middle-aged and balding.

  He started to get up, but I motioned him back down. “You can just lay there for a minute,” I said. Reluctantly, I patted him down, wishing there was running water nearby to wash my hands off afterward. I found a knife, a wallet, keys and some change.

  “Where’s your phone?”

  “Where do you think? Under about two feet of mud at the bottom of that damn well. Hey, what gives? You rescue a guy and treat him like a convict?” he whined. Apparently he had only three vocal inflections: yelling, begging and whining.

  “I’ve got ten bucks that says you’ll be a convict before this is all over,” I said.

  “No way, man. I’ll take that bet. I ain’t done nothing wrong.”

  “Trespassing at the very least. Assaulting a law enforcement officer. I’m sure we can think of some others,” Darlene said. “You’re lucky that smelling like crap isn’t against the law.”

  Cara and Alvin were sitting a ways off, watching the show. Cara actually looked like she was enjoying it. Alvin simply looked bored.

  “Want me to cuff him?” Darlene asked.

  “Come on…” More whining.

  “No. We’ll see how cooperative he is.” Which wasn’t true. I had already decided that, if nothing else, he was going to be held overnight as a material witness.

  “What’s your name?”

  “You know what my name is. Why do cops always ask questions they already know the answer to?” He shook his head. “Can I get a coat or something? And I really gotta get cleaned up. I was stuck in the mud at the bottom of that hole all night.”

  Darlene moved into his personal space. They were about the same size, so she could get nose to nose with him. She must be holding her breath, I thought.

  “Don’t be stupid. ’Cause I can tell you’ve been through the process. I don’t have to run your record to see that. It’s written all over you. So you know how this works. Only a stupid person would piss us off by not answering our questions. You aren’t going to smell a bit better after you spend a night in jail.” Darlene backed up, no doubt to take a breath.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’m just a little rougher for wear after the night I’ve had.” He turned to me. “I’m sorry for the foot thing. I was just scared you were going to leave me down there.” His new charm campaign was as transparent as a window without glass.

  “What’s your name?” I started over, ignoring his disingenuous apology.

  “Joel Howard Patrick. I’m forty-one years old and was born in Panama City.” He paused for a second and then added, “I’ve had various misunderstandings with the law over the course of my life. I’m sure you all have them written down somewhere, so I won’t bother trying to recite them.”

  I opened his wallet and took out his driver’s license. Handing it to Darlene, I said, “Check and see if he has any outstan
ding warrants.”

  “I shouldn’t have! If I do, they’re mistakes. I’ve been keeping my nose clean,” he protested and started following Darlene, who’d moved off to make the call over her radio.

  “Not so fast,” I said, pulling him back. “We’ll continue our conversation over here.”

  He looked uncomfortably from me to Darlene and back again.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “I’m looking for property to buy,” Joel said smoothly. I didn’t believe it for a second, but I was planning on having a more thorough conversation at a later date, so I didn’t press him on it. Sometimes hearing the lies people told could be as informative as the truth.

  “Where were you on the night of Monday, March seventh and the morning of March eighth?”

  “With friends,” Joel said, a little too quickly. “Hey, police dogs are getting smaller,” he added, nodding over at Alvin.

  “That is one lame attempt to distract me. Let’s agree to respect each other’s professional skills. You treat me like a competent law enforcement officer and I’ll treat you like the career criminal you are.”

  “Oh, a dagger to my heart. Sure, whatever. But I have friends that will back me up. In fact, you know one of my friends. Her name is Marcy,” he said, confirming my suspicions. Apparently he was willing to throw her under the bus.

  “You also have another old friend here in town. Jane Parrish. Unfortunately, her father was killed not two hundred yards from where I pulled you out of that hole,” I said and had the satisfaction of seeing him frown.

  “Yeah, who would have thought they wouldn’t fill in an old well like that? I should sue the county and the Parrish family.”

  “Try it. Juries around here don’t like trespassers.” Damn it. He’d managed to get me off track. “Again, I need to know when, where and who for Monday night and Tuesday morning.”