Secret Undertaking

by Mark de Castrique

  “I tell you, I don’t know.”

  “If it wasn’t Rufus, then why did your daddy kill him? Why did Rufus have your daddy’s food stamp card in his wallet?”

  Sonny froze, and what had been exasperation transformed into fear.

  “You found it in his wallet?” he whispered.

  “Yes. Why was it there?”

  The man squeezed his lips together like a vice.

  “Why was it there, Sonny?”

  He refused to say a word. Tommy Lee looked at me. My turn.

  “Sonny, when did you last see your daddy yesterday?”

  “About nine. Saturday mornings I always drop by and Momma fixes pancakes.”

  “So, you don’t live with your parents?”

  “No. I’ve got a trailer on the other side of the orchard.”

  “And is that your full-time job? Working in the orchard?”

  “No. I work at Harold Carson’s Auto Repair. I like fixing motorcycles the best.”

  “Did you have any idea your daddy was planning to attack Commissioner James?”

  “No. First it came up was when Momma mentioned the parade and that James would be in it.”

  “And what did your daddy say?”

  “Nothing. He just slammed down his fork and got up from the table. He left and we heard his truck start. He never said where he was going.”

  “Did you try to go after him?”

  “After him where? Like I said, I didn’t know where he was going.”

  “Did you have any reason to believe he might have gone to Rufus Taylor’s store?”

  “No.”

  I leaned forward across the table and gave him a hard stare. “Then how do you think your daddy’s EBT card wound up in Rufus Taylor’s wallet?”

  Again, fear registered across Sonny’s face. “I don’t know. Rufus must have stoled it.”

  “When did you leave your momma?”

  “About an hour later. I ate up the pancakes and then hung around expecting Daddy to return. Momma said he was just upset about everything and was probably driving around to cool off.”

  “Where did you go after that?”

  “I walked back to my place. I worked on my Triumph and then Momma came with the news.”

  “That’s a motorcycle, not a car?” I asked.

  “That’s right. I had parts spread all over the driveway. We took off for the hospital in my truck.” He faltered, his voice choking. “I had to identify Daddy’s body. I didn’t want Momma to have to do that.”

  “How did your mother learn what happened?”

  “My Aunt Nelda called her. Nelda Overton. That’s Momma’s sister. She met us at the hospital.”

  “And then you left them,” I stated.

  He nodded. “I went to Shuman’s Road House. Had a couple of beers and a few shots to calm my nerves.”

  “Then you came back for your mother?”

  He nodded again.

  “Speak up,” Tommy Lee said.

  “Yes. I reckon so. I don’t remember too much.”

  “And you also tried to see Commissioner James,” I said.

  Sonny looked at the sheriff. “I wanted him to know it wasn’t Daddy’s fault.”

  “Whose fault was it?”

  He said nothing.

  “Was it Rufus Taylor’s?” I pressed.

  Sonny dropped his chin to his vomit-stained shirt and refused to look at us. A knock sounded on the door.

  “Come in,” Tommy Lee said gruffly.

  Reece entered carrying a few sheets of paper. “Preliminary forensics on Rufus.” He turned to me. “Archie’s asking to see you.”

  Tommy Lee flipped quickly through the pages. “Reece, take Sonny back to his cell.”

  When Reece and his prisoner had left, Tommy Lee handed me one of the sheets. Rufus had been shot once in the chest and once in the head. The recovered slugs were twenty-two caliber.

  “But Toby McKay used a thirty-eight,” I said.

  “That’s right. Time for me to get a search warrant from Judge Wood. We’ll need to go through the houses of both Toby and Sonny. Might have been a squirrel rifle, might have been a pistol. And I want you to visit the crime scene with me. Are you good with that?”

  “Unless something changes with Uncle Wayne.”

  Tommy Lee nodded. “Of course. Now, while I ring the judge, you talk to Archie. Then we’ll take separate cars in case you have to peel off.”

  Archie was sitting on the cot in his cell. His laptop was open beside him. On the floor was a takeout bag from the Cardinal Café. The door was unlocked. For a prisoner, he seemed to have plenty of comforts. From his worried look, I knew something was bothering him.

  “How are the donations going?”

  He closed the laptop and stood. “Not so good,” he whispered. “I think the shooting yesterday overshadowed the publicity. So, I’m writing all my clients, reminding them where I am. Sort of a blog. I call it Letters from a Gainesboro Jail.”

  I couldn’t stifle a laugh. “Archie, you’re not Martin Luther King, Junior.”

  He held a finger to his lips. “Not so loud. I know. But I’m imprisoned for my cause.”

  “Is that why you wanted to see me?”

  He stepped closer and jerked his head toward the near wall. “No,” he whispered. “It’s the man in the next cell. The deputies call him Sonny.”

  “Yeah. What about him?”

  “Well, he kept me up last night with his moaning. And then he got sick. I heard him puking so I asked if he was all right.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That he was a dead man. They killed Rufus and he would be next.”

  I felt a tingle in my neck at the possibility that Archie could have learned something significant.

  “Did he say who they were?”

  “No. He said he didn’t know. But Rufus had known. He was part of them. And now with what his daddy had done, they’d be coming after him. I figured the daddy had to be Toby McKay.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him I could help him. That I knew people.”

  “What people?”

  “Well, you. But I didn’t use your name. I didn’t even say they were police. Just that I had influence and could provide protection.”

  “Archie, you’re an insurance salesman. You’re not Eliot Ness.”

  Again, Archie’s finger went to his lips. “He’ll hear you. I didn’t give him my real name.”

  “What name did you give him?”

  Archie reddened. “The first one that popped into my mind. Brad Pitt.”

  “And he bought that?”

  “I told him I wasn’t the movie star.”

  “You actually think he needed clarification?”

  “He didn’t see me. At least not till Reece came and took him out a little while ago.”

  “He say anything?”

  “No. He just smiled and mouthed, ‘Hi, Brad.’”

  “And you’ve never seen him before?”

  “Nope. Not before last night. He wasn’t exactly a prospect.” Archie grinned. “Want me to pump him for information? I told him I was in for robbery. I think he was impressed.”

  I wanted to scream, “You’re not Brad Pitt, you’re Archie Donovan, Junior,” loud enough for Sonny to hear and end this ridiculous charade. But, at least Sonny had talked to him, whereas Tommy Lee and I had gotten the silent treatment.

  “Don’t engage him anymore,” I said. “At least until I talk to Tommy Lee. Sonny will probably be cut loose pretty soon anyway.”

  “Okay. One question.”

  “What?”

  “Can I still be Brad Pitt?”

  Chapter Six

  “Brad Pitt? He told Sonny he was Brad Pitt?” Tommy Lee stare
d at me with incredulity.

  We were waiting in his office for the search warrants to be delivered.

  “Not the Brad Pitt. And Sonny told him more than he told us.”

  “Only because he was drunk.” The sheriff got up from his desk and walked to his Mr. Coffee machine to refill yet another cup.

  “Sonny said he was a marked man,” I said. “That they would get him like they did Rufus. Archie offered him protection.”

  Tommy Lee choked in mid-swallow. “Jesus, have we ever seen any sign that Archie has a brain?”

  “No. And yet his whole concocted story is so ludicrous it could pass for the truth. I mean what undercover agent would call himself Brad Pitt?”

  “And Sonny bought it?”

  “Archie says Sonny said, ‘Hi, Brad’ as Reece escorted him to our interview.”

  Tommy Lee paced behind his desk for a few seconds before collapsing into his chair. “This goes against my better judgment, but if Archie can find something out, then I guess we’d better back him up. How did you leave it?”

  “I told him not to engage in any more conversations, but he could keep his Brad Pitt name.”

  Tommy Lee swiveled his chair and stared out the window behind his desk. “Just when I think this job can’t get any weirder.” He sighed and spun back around. He pressed the intercom button on his phone. “Marge, what deputies are here?”

  “Just Reece and Steve.”

  “Tell them I need to see them in my office. You might as well join them.”

  In only a few minutes, Deputies Reece Hutchins and Steve Wakefield came in. Reece eyed me suspiciously, as if I were somehow aligning myself with the sheriff against him. Wakefield, the older of the two, seemed unperturbed by being called to the office. He’d been summoned thousands of times. Marge Colbert slid in between the two men, her expression one of curiosity. She’d picked up that something was astir by the tone of Tommy Lee’s voice.

  Tommy Lee and I stood.

  “What I’m about to tell you is going to sound crazy,” Tommy Lee began. “I’ll get the craziest part out of the way first. As long as Sonny McKay is here, we’re to call Archie Brad Pitt.”

  The three couldn’t have looked more bewildered than if Tommy Lee had announced he was from Jupiter. Wakefield was the first to recover. “Is it a breach of procedure to ask for his autograph?”

  “Yes. He’s not that Brad Pitt.” Tommy Lee filled them in on Archie’s overnight conversation and the potential to gather more information.

  Marge shifted uncomfortably. “How long are you planning to hold Sonny?” she asked. “He’s an only son and his father just died. His mother must need emotional support.”

  Marge’s concern squelched our brief levity. We had no evidence to hold Sonny on a murder charge, and now that he’d sobered up, he should be allowed bail. Archie, on the other hand, could be looking at a life sentence if he didn’t start getting some donations.

  “A fair point,” Tommy Lee said. “Thank you, Marge. We’ll keep him till mid-afternoon. We’ll charge him with a misdemeanor and release him on his own recognizance. In the meantime, we’ll stay clear of the cells other than normal rounds. Be sure and let dispatch know, as well as any other officers who might come in, that Archie is now Brad Pitt.”

  “Sonny doesn’t know me,” Wakefield said. “Can I be George Clooney?”

  “No. And none of this is funny. Remember Barry’s uncle is lying in a coma as a result of yesterday’s confrontation and Rufus Taylor’s dead.”

  “Sorry,” Wakefield muttered.

  “You can bring Archie to Interview Room 2. Call him Brad. Say the sheriff wants to question him. Marge, you and Reece should be ready to intercept anyone coming in and give a heads-up.”

  A few minutes later, Tommy Lee and I entered the interview room to find Archie grinning with a smile so broad that the Cheshire Cat would have been envious. The sheriff dismissed Deputy Wakefield and motioned for Archie to sit at the table. Tommy Lee and I took chairs opposite him.

  “So, I understand you have an alias, Archie,” Tommy Lee said.

  “It was spur of the moment. To be honest, I didn’t want a violent man knowing my name.”

  “But he did say Rufus was killed by some unnamed group.”

  “Yes, a group that he was part of.”

  “That Sonny was part of?”

  Archie shook his head. “That Rufus was part of. Sonny didn’t make any claim except that they would be after him next.”

  “Did you ask him who these people were?”

  “Yes. He wouldn’t say.”

  Tommy Lee turned to me. “What do you think?”

  “I think Sonny’s scared. He certainly came across that way when we interviewed him.”

  “You offered him protection?” Tommy Lee asked Archie.

  The insurance-agent-turned-jailhouse-snitch squirmed. “I was just trying to calm him down. I was worried. I heard him throwing up. Anyway, he didn’t take it.”

  “I want you to ask him again,” Tommy Lee said.

  “Why would he take it now?”

  “He was drunk as a skunk when we brought him in. Was he still drunk when you talked to him in the middle of the night?”

  “I couldn’t see him, but he was slurring his words.”

  “Good. Then I want you to play it this way. Tell him I pressed you to give up anything he might have told you. That I offered to recommend leniency to the D.A. on your robbery charge. A murder conviction is a much bigger fish than a robbery.”

  “But he didn’t tell me anything,” Archie said.

  The sheriff held up a finger. “Point one, he doesn’t know that or can’t be sure. His memory of last night is fuzzy at best.” He raised a second finger. “Point two, you don’t have to give him any information. Say you know he didn’t kill Rufus but he told you about his father’s involvement in the food stamp scam and the people running it. You’re willing to give him an insurance policy.”

  Archie’s mouth opened. “You want me to sell him an insurance policy?”

  “In a manner of speaking. Say you can get the names to your lawyer who will keep the information confidential unless something happens to him or you. Then they’ll be released to the police. Assure him these people wouldn’t dare touch him then.”

  Archie looked at me and then back to Tommy Lee. “What food stamp scam?”

  I didn’t know what the sheriff was talking about either.

  Tommy Lee’s one eye narrowed as he studied Archie. “Can you keep a secret?”

  Archie looked indignant. “Of course I can.”

  “No, don’t give me such a flip answer. Can you keep a secret that could have deadly consequences?”

  Archie paled. “What kind of consequences?”

  “Well, for starters, Rufus is dead. It wasn’t a hold-up and he was shot with a twenty-two. That smacks of a professional with a suppressed semi-automatic. Sonny could very well be in danger. He won’t cooperate with me but he might latch onto you.”

  Archie licked his dry lips. “I can’t protect him against an assassin.”

  “I’m not asking you to. We’ll handle that. You just tell him that he talked about the food stamp fraud. Then you get the names and you’re out of it. Your conversation with Sonny is not to be shared unless we’re in court. The secret is we found Toby McKay’s Electronic Benefit Transfer card in Rufus’ wallet. It replaced physical food stamps and it’s used like a credit card. My guess is Rufus had loaned Toby money and demanded the card as collateral. Each month when the account was replenished, he processed fake purchases through his store. And if he used Toby’s card that way, he could have been running the fraud with others and splitting the cash.”

  “And Toby didn’t kill him?”

  Tommy Lee shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe Toby went for Commissioner James and Sonny went for Rufus. But
unless we find that one of them owned a twenty-two with a ballistics match, then my money’s on something wider and more sinister. So, we’ll keep your identity a secret and you keep the secret that you ever spoke with Sonny.”

  Archie’s hands started shaking. “Can I have protection too?”

  Tommy Lee shot me a glance telling me he wasn’t going to like where this conversation was going. “Why?” he asked.

  “Because I kind of posted on Facebook that my cellmate was the son of the man who shot Commissioner James.”

  “And Brad Pitt?”

  Archie shook his head emphatically. “No. I didn’t say anything about that.”

  “Then when you get back to your cell, you post an admittance that Sonny wasn’t actually your cellmate but rather was at the other end of the corridor. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And then let Reece take the computer and mobile phone out of your cell. Sonny will probably be released before you and he’ll pass your cell door. Did he see that stuff when he was out earlier?”

  “No. Everything was under my cot.”

  “All right. Then you can leave them there.” Tommy Lee stood. “Are we clear on what you’re supposed to do?”

  Archie and I both rose.

  “Yes, sir,” Archie said. “Tell him he talked last night and offer him protection.”

  “Good. We’re going to cut him loose mid-afternoon. Then you go back to your Facebook posting like none of this happened. Do me and you both a favor. Raise the money and get the hell out of my jail.”

  Armed with our search warrants, Tommy Lee and I first caravanned to Toby McKay’s house. Sonny had said his mother Pauline McKay had been with her sister Nelda Overton, but we didn’t know whether Mrs. McKay had stayed at her sister’s or returned to her own home.

  The orchard bordered Highway 64 and the farmhouse was on the backside. A dirt road long in need of fresh gravel looped around the apple trees. I followed Tommy Lee in my jeep, staying back far enough to avoid the dust cloud stirred by his patrol car.

  The road ended at a patch of sparse grass and weeds that passed for the front yard of a small farmhouse. The siding was clapboard with peeling, faded white paint. A wooden porch tilted toward concrete steps without a banister. But my attention focused on two dark blue sedans parked on either side of the steps. The whiff of government suddenly filled the air.