Secret Undertaking

by Mark de Castrique

  “He talk about why he was in?”

  Sonny looked wary. “Don’t you know?”

  “I want to know what he told you.”

  “Some kind of robbery. I didn’t ask and he didn’t say any more.”

  “Nothing about the others in his gang?”

  “He has a gang?”

  “Oh, yeah. Brad’s quite the wheeler-dealer, and he’s got a slick lawyer. He’ll be out soon. My advice is stay clear of him.”

  Sonny spread his hands. “Hey, he asked if I was okay. That’s it.”

  I stood. “All right. One last thing. Your father’s body should be ready for release tomorrow. You and your mother need to notify the morgue who’s taking receipt.”

  “You mean like a funeral home?”

  “Yeah. Clayton and Clayton’s the only one in this county, but there are others nearby.”

  He looked embarrassed. “They all cost about the same?”

  “The local one will be least expensive.”

  “Your name’s Clayton?”

  I smiled. “That’s right. But ask for Fletcher Shaw. He’ll take good care of you.”

  I walked Sonny back to his cell and then found Tommy Lee in his office. He looked up from a series of color photographs on his desk. “How’d it go?”

  I shrugged. “He’s still denying any ties between his father and Rufus. So I tried to reinforce Archie’s persona as a tough guy, but that’s a hard sell.”

  Tommy Lee sighed. “Well, bring him back to Interview Two. I’ll take one more crack and then cut him loose.”

  “Will you have someone on him? He seems genuinely scared.”

  “I don’t have the manpower for 24/7. Not and devote attention to Rufus’ murder.” He lifted one of the photographs. “These are from the crime scene. Nothing to go on. Not even signs of a struggle.”

  “Maybe he knew his attacker.”

  “Can’t rule it out. Too bad Rufus had no CCTV footage.”

  I thought about our one piece of connecting evidence. “Can we get a list of all the EBT cards Rufus ran in the last month? If it’s a scam like you theorize, we ought to find a pattern.”

  “Already made the request through Ferguson. But don’t expect any response till after Labor Day.” He rose from his desk. “Pull Archie into Interview One before I get Sonny. Keep him in there till Sonny leaves.”

  I didn’t move.

  “What?” Tommy Lee snapped.

  “I don’t like Sonny going out uncovered.”

  “I didn’t say he’d be uncovered. I just can’t have surveillance around the clock. I’ve got a GPS tracker on his pickup and plan two-shift coverage. Once he beds down for the night, we’ll pull back. That’s the best I can do.”

  I found Archie so engrossed in his laptop screen that he didn’t hear me approach his cell.

  “Okay, Pitt. We’re going to go through it all again and then again until you loosen those tight lips.” I knew my dialogue sounded straight out of a Grade B movie, but Sonny wasn’t exactly a sophisticated film critic.

  Archie jumped and snapped the laptop shut. “You’re wasting your breath. I’ve got nothing to say.”

  At least he didn’t address me as “copper.” I unlocked the door and he slid the computer under his bunk.

  As soon as we were in the interview room. Archie clapped his hands and actually jumped in the air.

  “I did it! I raised the bail.” He sat on the edge of the table and dangled his feet in the air. “A certified check is coming Tuesday as soon as the banks open.”

  “A single check?”

  “Yep. The whole ten thousand.”

  “That’s great. Congratulations. So, how much is the total, counting the original five hundred and whatever else you raised?”

  “Oh, that five hundred was seed money. I said that to get the ball rolling. Now I don’t need to give it.”

  I started to argue that a pledge was a pledge, but realized it was Archie. As he’d said in the cell, I’d be wasting my breath.

  “Who made the contribution?”

  He gave me a sly wink. “One of my loyal clients who wishes to remain anonymous. The person said my Letters from a Gainesboro Jail were very moving. So, I’m free to go as soon as we wrap this business with Sonny.”

  “Did he tell you anything?”

  “No, but he wants to.”

  I suspected Archie’s fantasy of a secret undertaking with Sonny was leading him to an exaggerated assessment of their relationship. “How do you know that?”

  Archie hopped off the table. “Because he asked me to come see him when I made bail. He gave me directions. A trailer on the north side of their orchard.”

  “Why wouldn’t he talk now?”

  “He said the walls have ears. He thinks our cells are bugged.”

  Archie’s explanation sounded plausible, but the prospect of an outside meeting changed the whole dynamics of his ruse.

  “I don’t want you to take it any further.”

  “Ah, come on, Barry,” he whined. “He’s ready to talk. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “Yes, within the safety of our jail, not in a trailer on the side of a mountain where I can’t give you protection.”

  Archie threw up his hands. “But aren’t you giving him protection?”

  “That’s different. And it’s not as complete as I’d like because we don’t want him to know he’s being monitored.”

  Archie stepped closer. “I can do this, Barry. You put a wire on me, I go in, I get the names, and I’m out. Why are you against that?”

  “Because you’re not law enforcement, you’re a private citizen. You’re not talking through a cell wall, you’re face-to-face with someone who might think he’s told you more than he did. I mean you pushed him into that belief. He might not see you as protection. He could see you as a loose end.”

  That possibility gave Archie pause, and I pushed on. “Remember, we haven’t totally ruled him out as a suspect in Rufus Taylor’s murder. He only has his mother for an alibi.”

  “Then why is he scared of these other people? He brought them up, I didn’t. He was drunk and unlikely to be lying. He has names and I can get them for you. At least ask Tommy Lee.”

  I couldn’t refuse that request, although I wasn’t certain what the sheriff’s answer would be.

  “Why are you so hell-bent on doing this, Archie?”

  “Because I like your uncle. And I think he’s in the hospital because of something Sonny McKay knows. And I want someone to pay. Don’t you?”

  We met fifteen minutes later in Tommy Lee’s office. Sonny had left for the hospital to get his pickup, the one Tommy Lee had gotten a court order to tag with a GPS tracker he’d borrowed from the SBI.

  The sheriff listened stone-faced to Archie’s pitch. I argued the points about Sonny still being a suspect and the lack of protection we could provide a private citizen who was basically acting as an extension of the Sheriff’s Department.

  When we’d both made our case, Tommy Lee leaned back in his desk chair accompanied by the squeal of its worn springs. “Archie, I share Barry’s concerns for your safety, and for enlisting the aid of someone who is not a trained officer of the law. I would feel much better if we could completely rule out Sonny as Rufus Taylor’s killer. But, we don’t have to make a yes or no decision today.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Sonny is going to be tied up with his father’s funeral arrangements. At least for the next day or two. He thinks his jail friend Brad Pitt has to make bail, so a delay in Pitt’s visit to his trailer is perfectly logical. In the meantime, we need to determine with more certainty that Sonny isn’t a killer. Then, I think we’ll give Archie his shot.”

  “All right,” I conceded.

  Tommy Lee snapped his chair forward and gave Ar
chie a hard stare. “But till then you stay out of sight and away from that section of the county. Sonny’s going to be coming in and out of town and I don’t want him running into you in the Cardinal Café.”

  Archie grinned. “Home and office, sir. Just my home and office.”

  Chapter Eight

  I spent most of Labor Day Monday at the hospital where Uncle Wayne continued to improve. He mostly slept, but by evening his appetite returned and we spent dinner watching a rerun of the old Andy Griffith Show.

  Fletcher called during Wheel of Fortune to say the Gainesboro hospital was releasing Toby McKay’s body the next morning and that Sonny and his mother were coming to the funeral home at ten.

  “Handle it however you want,” I said. “I’ll stay clear. Just be warned that we’re probably going to be paid in vegetables.”

  “I’ll see if I can negotiate for a pie.”

  “Make sure it isn’t made with their apples.”

  “Oh, right,” he said. “And if payment’s a problem, I’ll avoid as many hard costs as I can. I’ll keep you posted.” He paused, and I was ready to hang up. “Oh, one more thing. We’re also getting Rufus Taylor’s body. We’ll have some logistical juggling to do.”

  “I can help with Rufus,” I said. “Have you heard from his next of kin?”

  “A son came in from Winston-Salem. I met him this afternoon. I understand Rufus was divorced and the ex is out west somewhere. The son wants a short service in our chapel on Wednesday morning. Burial’s up at Twin Creeks Baptist Church. That’s also where McKay will be buried.”

  “Okay. Try to push any service for McKay till Thursday. Do you know where the son’s staying?”

  “He said he’s at his father’s house. It’s about a quarter mile from the store. His name’s Roger Taylor. Nice guy. About thirty. He’s pretty shaken by the murder.”

  After we hung up, I wondered if anyone had interviewed Roger Taylor about his father. That could be an important piece of our investigation. And I thought about another potential hole in our case. I’d neglected to ask Tommy Lee if he’d interviewed Sonny’s mother. Between dealing with Uncle Wayne’s injuries and Archie’s self-initiated undercover work, I hadn’t inquired about the status of Mrs. McKay. If the family had a need for food stamps, she should be as aware of the existence of the EBT card as anyone. I left Mom and my uncle to step into the hospital stairwell to phone Tommy Lee in relative privacy.

  “Can you talk?” I asked.

  “Yep. It’s just Patsy and me grilling burgers and trying to cram the holiday weekend into two hours. Everything all right?”

  “Yes. I’m with Mom and Uncle Wayne. He’s making good progress.”

  “Give them both my best.”

  “Thanks. Listen, I spoke to Fletcher who said we’re receiving Toby McKay’s body tomorrow. Sonny and his mother are coming for a consultation at ten.”

  “Well, since you’ll want to stay clear, you can work with me. I want to talk to Sonny’s boss, Harold Carson, at the auto repair garage. And I’m pushing Agent Ferguson to get the ballistics on those twenty-two rifles our search turned up. The sooner we clear Sonny, the sooner Archie can make his play.”

  “Have you interviewed Mrs. McKay?”

  “Not yet. Ferguson spoke with her this morning regarding the attack on Commissioner James. He sent me his notes. She claims to be completely unaware of any sign that Toby was about to go off the deep end. I was holding back talking to her until we learn more about how the EBT card was being used. I want a little more background, in case the tone of the interview shifts to an interrogation.”

  Tommy Lee believed in being prepared and it was always good to have the subject of an interview think you don’t know as much as you do.

  “Fletcher tells me Rufus Taylor’s son is in town,” I said. “They’ll have a service on Wednesday.”

  “Yes. He’s coming to the department tomorrow morning at nine.”

  “Then I’ll be there. Enjoy your burgers.”

  He laughed. “I’ll try. Although Patsy’s limiting me to a single beer. One more thing. Have you talked to Archie?”

  My stomach tightened at the thought that Archie could have already created some problem with our plan. “No. Is something wrong?”

  “You could say that. As far as I know, he hasn’t done anything stupid in the last twenty-four hours. Are you keeping close tabs on him?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe you should check in with him. Let him know when Sonny and his mother are coming.”

  “All right. I’ll be glad when he’s out of the mix.”

  “Well, I’m counting on you to keep him corralled until then.”

  I knew he wasn’t joking. “Thanks. You really know how to ruin a holiday.”

  I phoned Archie’s cell. It rang about five times before he picked up.

  “Hi, Barry,” he whispered. “I’m with some clients. Can I call you back?”

  “No need. Just wanted you to know Sonny will be coming to the funeral home in the morning.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep to the office.” His voice seemed strained.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Yes. We’ll talk later.” He hung up.

  The night of Labor Day and Archie’s with clients, not friends? I wondered what could be so urgent.

  On Tuesday morning, Roger Taylor arrived at the Sheriff’s Department twenty minutes early. Tommy Lee and I were meeting in his office and had the crime scene photos of Roger’s murdered father spread across the desk.

  Tommy Lee instructed his administrative assistant, Marge, to escort Mr. Taylor to one of the interview rooms, bring him a cup of coffee, and assure him that Tommy Lee and I would join him in a few minutes.

  Tommy Lee gathered up the photos. “So, you can see there’s nothing out of the ordinary in these pictures. No items knocked askew, no jimmying of the cash register. Rufus just seems to have fallen backwards behind the counter from the impact of the slugs, although a twenty-two wouldn’t pack the wallop of a larger caliber.”

  “Do you know when the last purchase was rung up on the register?”

  “Ten twenty-five. About twenty minutes before the boys found the body.”

  “And Toby McKay was shot around ten,” I said. “So someone could have learned of Toby’s shooting and had approximately forty-five minutes to get to the convenience store.”

  “That’s assuming there’s a connection between the two deaths.”

  “I thought the EBT card was that connection.”

  “As an item, it connects to Toby, but what’s its relationship to Rufus? That’s what I mean by connection. And how do the card and the murder connect? That’s what I hope we can learn or at least uncover from Roger Taylor.” He gestured toward the door. “Go ahead. Take the lead.”

  Roger Taylor was sipping coffee when we entered the room and introduced ourselves. As a break from procedure, Tommy Lee sat at the table beside him and I took the chair opposite.

  Taylor had a long face with pocked acne scars, sallow skin, and thin, straw-colored hair. If he was thirty, it was a hard thirty.

  “Thank you for coming in,” I said.

  Before I could utter another syllable, he said, “I was working Saturday morning. You can check with my boss man. Stokes Equipment Rental. I took a backhoe to a jobsite near the Virginia line.” His voice carried a smoker’s rasp.

  “Okay. But you aren’t a suspect, sir.”

  He laughed. “Like hell, I ain’t. I know you boys always go for the family first. And my father and I weren’t always on the best of terms. Not since my mama split from him.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “About fifteen years. When I was fifteen. That’s how I wound up in Winston. Her people were from there.”

  “When was the last time you saw your father?” I asked.

>   “July Fourth. Brought my girlfriend up and we stayed at the Motel 6. She went shopping and I ran by the store to say hello. We’d gotten along a little better since I’ve been out on my own. He gave me a six-pack of Colt 45.”

  “Do you know why anyone would want to kill him?”

  “Robbery, I guess. Ain’t that what happened?”

  “We don’t believe so. Nothing was taken.”

  Roger Taylor looked stunned. “Somebody just shot him?”

  “No,” I said. “Somebody shot him for a reason. So, let me repeat the question. Who would want to kill your father?”

  “I don’t know. He kept to himself. The store was earning enough to live on. His partner was happy.”

  I looked at Tommy Lee. He arched an eyebrow.

  “Partner?” I asked.

  “Yes. He had a partner. He told me about a year ago someone was interested in buying in.”

  “Who was the partner?”

  “He didn’t say. Just that he’d now get his stock for a lower cost. Like the partner had better contacts or could buy in bigger volume.”

  “Did this partner work at the store?”

  Roger Taylor shook his head. “Nah. He was behind the scenes.”

  “What’s going to happen to the store now?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did your father have a will? Is his share of the store going to the partner for some agreed price?”

  Taylor rubbed his palm across his thin lips. I could see the question threw him.

  “I hadn’t thought that far. Everything should come to me, shouldn’t it? Then I’ll work out some kind of deal because I ain’t coming back here to spend my days sitting behind the counter of Taylor’s Short Stop. And I sure as hell ain’t gonna sit there and get shot.”

  I nodded to Tommy Lee to take the lead.

  “No, we wouldn’t want that to happen,” Tommy Lee insisted. “Maybe you should figure out who’s your father’s lawyer. Did he have one for the divorce?”

  Taylor shrugged. “I guess so. My mother would know. Would he be the one to help me?”

  “I’d start there,” Tommy Lee advised. “He might have drawn up a will for your father. Or the business arrangement for the business partnership. We’d like to know the name of the partner so we can talk to him. Maybe they had a common enemy.”