by John Foxjohn
* * * *
Melissa’s face boiled with rage. Her finger stabbed David in the chest as frustrated tears leaked from her eyes, cascading down her cheeks. “You didn’t have to do that!”
“Melissa—”
“Shut-up. Let me finish.”
David tilted his head and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Melissa didn’t seem to notice. “Do you know how damn hard it is for a woman to get even a little respect from men in this world?”
She shook her angry head and poked him in the chest again. “No you don’t. I was making some headway with these guys until you butted your John Wayne butt in.”
She stamped her foot. “I don’t need a white knight charging to my rescue.”
David, stood, a half grimace on his face, tugging on his left ear as she boiled over like a teakettle.
“Why the hell did you have to do that? I had this under control.”
“Are you through?”
Melissa’s eyes narrowed. “Hell no.” She poked David in the chest again with her finger. This time he caught her hand and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. Melissa struggled for a couple of moments, but David held her close with no problem. After some time, she stopped struggling, buried her face in his shoulder and started crying.
Not knowing what to do, David reached up and stroked her hair. They stayed close together as Melissa sobbed. Time didn’t seem to move while David held her in his arms. After a while, Melissa straightened up, and David let her back up. She sat on David’s sofa.
Strained silence developed between the two. David didn’t know what to do or say. He shifted from foot to foot, and jammed his hands in his pockets. When this didn’t help anything, he decided to make coffee. With the coffee started, he sat across from Melissa. She stared at the floor. David reached out and lifted her chin. His heart ached when he looked into her red eyes with mascara running down her cheeks.
After taking his handkerchief out of his pocket, he dabbed at her runny make-up. Melissa closed her eyes and caught his hand. They sat that way for several moments.
David disengaged, went and poured them both a cup, his black and Melissa’s with cream and two sugars.
When he handed her the cup, she took it with both hands and held it close to her lips, sipping.
David leaned back. “Can we talk now?’
Melissa nodded.
“Melissa, what happened had nothing to do with if you could’ve handled Morgan or not. I know you could’ve. The problem is…” He hesitated and took a breath. He didn’t want her to go off again. After taking a swallow of his coffee, he continued. “It wasn’t your place to handle him. It was mine. Morgan works for me just like you do. This has nothing to do with gaining respect in a man’s world. You damn sure should know by now that I respect you.”
Melissa looked David in the eye and nodded, her lips trembling.
He stood and trudged around the room for a couple of moments, filled his coffee cup, and indicated the pot to Melissa, who shook her head.
When he sat down, he put the cup on the table and leaned forward. “The situation got bad. It would’ve only gotten worse. I let this go on maybe too long.”
Melissa looked up. “You knew?”
David nodded his head several times. “I didn’t know what happened, but I knew something had. Also knew you handled it pretty well.”
With a confused expression, she asked, “How?’
David chuckled. “I’ve seen too many men walk with swollen balls. Let me assure you, Morgan’s had to be the size of softballs.”
Despite herself, a smile eclipsed her lips. “I did kick him pretty hard.”
“Do you think the ice helped?’
David breathed a sigh of relief when Melissa broke out laughing. They talked for a long time, neither keeping track until the ringing phone interrupted them.
When David answered, Chief Harlan Spears told him they had another problem.
A tight smile formed on David’s mouth when he hung up. He shook his head. What else was new?
* * * *
In two cars, the six agents drove to the auto dealership on the loop. Several Lufkin squad cars blocked the entrance and exits. After identifying themselves, the cops allowed them through.
A tough, blocky officer with lieutenant bars on his uniform met them. After he introduced himself, David did the honors for the agents. The lieutenant acknowledged everyone, but his eyes lingered on Melissa.
“Chief told me to fill you in. A male drove this truck up late this afternoon. Took a car for a test drive and never showed back up. It took the dealership several hours to call it in. Evidently they forgot.” The lieutenant chuckled. “I don’t think the salesman will have a job much longer. Anyway, they called it in. A patrolman answered the call to take a report and ran a check on the truck’s plate. I’m sure you know it came back a hit.”
“What’s a hit?” Melvin asked.
The lieutenant rolled his eyes and ignored Melvin. “Whatcha want us to do with it?”
David straightened his coat. “Impound and process. We need a description of what he left in.”
The lieutenant, as if anticipating this request, handed David the full description of the car.
Indicating the paper the Lufkin officer handed him, David said, “I know this is a stupid question, but did you put this one out over the air?”
The lieutenant raised both eyebrows. “Uh huh.”
When they strode to their parked cars, Melissa asked, “What’re we going to do?”
When he didn’t respond, Melissa reached out and put her hand on David’s shoulder. “David.”
“Sorry. Thinking. What’d you say?”
“I asked you what we were going to do.”
David glanced around at the agents. “We’re going to do what we should have done a damn long time ago. Y’all follow me.”
“Where to?” Andy asked.
David sat behind the wheel. Before shutting the door, he told them, “Hurry, and get your butts in the cars. We’re going on a raid.”
CHAPTER 20
Melissa drove the second vehicle following David. They were in the same position as they were going to the dealership. Morgan sat in the front of David’s car and Melvin in the back. Andy sat in the front of Melissa’s, with John in the back. The only difference, David was the only one who knew where they were going, and whom they intended to arrest.
David headed west on the loop, and exited to the 59 ramp, staying in the left lane.
“Where’re we going?” Morgan asked.
David did a u-turn, taking them back the other direction on the loop, and didn’t answer the question. To everyone’s surprise, he turned into a bar instead of getting on the east loop.
When everyone exited the vehicles, David started for the front door. Melissa, hurrying to catch up, caught David’s arm. “Who are we going to arrest here?”
David said over his shoulder, “A bottle of Scotch.”
As David opened the door to the club, Andy remarked. “How the hell can anyone not like this guy?”
* * * *
The next morning, hung-over agents trudged into David’s suite. Andy didn’t joke and kid around this morning.
“Morgan. I want you to get us a federal warrant to examine Justin’s deposit box, and meet Melvin and me back here.”
Morgan nodded and got up to leave. David turned to Melissa. “Do you know what you’re going to do?”
She smiled. “Find the other two. Make them tell all. Simple.”
David chuckled. “Uh-huh. Where do you plan on looking for them?’
She held up one index finger. “That’s the one problem I haven’t figured out yet.”
“Ahhh—that’s not a big problem,” David said. “You might check brothers, friends, and also, he spent time in Huntsville. See who his roommates were.”
Melissa, writing while David talked, glanced up. “Where or what’s Huntsville?”
“Sorry. Keep forgetting y
’all aren’t from Texas. You’re all damn Yankees. Huntsville is where the prison is.”
Melissa nodded. “Makes sense.”
A little smirk appeared on Andy’s face. “Why a damn Yankee? Why can’t we be regular Yankees?”
David feigned a shocked expression. “You don’t know the difference?”
“Nope.”
David looked around at the four agents, shook his head with a sad expression. “A Yankee is someone who comes to visit and leaves. A damn Yankee stays.”
“But we aren’t staying,” Melvin said with a smile.
When he said this, it reminded David he’d never told them that this team would be headquarted in Houston.
When he did break the news to them, Andy rolled his eyes all the way back into his head. Holding his hands up to the ceiling, he asked to no one in particular. “Why me? I live a good life. I don’t do too much wrong. Why do I have to be sentenced to hell?”
The agents were still laughing when they left.
* * * *
Before they drove to the bank, David told Morgan and Melvin he was going to hang back on this one. He didn’t tell them he wanted to see how they took the lead in things. He’d expected Morgan to take charge, but Melvin shocked him. Dressed in his new suit, standing tall, he strode toward a smiling receptionist, flashed his badge and identified himself, and told her he wanted to speak to the bank president.
The cute little brunette’s eyes almost popped out of her head. She stuttered, told them to wait a minute, and left like her tail was on fire.
With a satisfied smile on his face, Melvin turned to David.
David winked. “Feels good doesn’t it?”
Melvin nodded, but Morgan, looking from Melvin to David asked, “What’s going on?”
David smiled. “Just a matter of perspective between me and Melvin.”
Before Morgan could say anything else, the secretary returned with a man wearing a smile almost as big as Dallas. He had his hand extended for a shake ten feet before he reached them. “Jordan Provost. Bank president. How can I help the bureau?” The smile never left his face.
Melvin looked him in the eye. “We need to look into a safe deposit box of one of your customers.”
The smile left the president’s face, first. His friendliness soon followed. “That’s impossible.”
Morgan stepped closer. “Why is it impossible?”
“You should know the answer to that. It takes a federal court order to get what you’re asking. Since you don’t have one, I’d like for you to leave this bank.”
Morgan shook his head. “Can’t do that.”
“Then I want the name and number of your supervisor.” Provost reached into his pocket for a pen and paper.
David, standing behind the other two, knew he should step in, but it was fun to watch.
Pen poised, Provost demanded the name and number. Melvin had a little smile. “His name is David Mason. M-a-s-o-n,” He then told him the phone number.
As the president turned away, Morgan told him, “You won’t find him at that number right now.”
“Why not?”
Melvin pointed with his hand. “That’s him there.”
Tired of playing this silly game, and wondering why Provost changed so fast, David told Morgan to give him the court order. The president looked it over, told the receptionist to give them whatever they wanted, and stomped away.
With an embarrassed expression, she led the three agents to the deposit box area. When she set the box on a table, David asked, “When was this box rented?”
She glanced at the records. “January 8th, 1984.”
David nodded and said aloud to himself, “Ten days before he was murdered.”
The box contained a single diary-looking book. “We can do everything ourselves from here. We’re taking this as evidence.”
She took the hint and left in a hurry. David set the book on the table and with Melvin and Morgan gathered so they could see, opened the book to the first page.
November 4th, 1983
I don’t know why I’m starting this, or what good it will do. I just feel there is something wrong with the Angelina Sheriff’s Department. I have no evidence, just suspicions. I need to take a close look at Deputy Willis James.
David breathed deep after reading the first entry. Morgan combed his perfect hair with his hand. “It looks like he was right about James.”
His eyes closed—choked up—David nodded. Not trusting his voice, he flipped to the next page.
* * * *
November 5th, 1983
I get too many strange calls. These calls always come when we are slow. Never when we are busy. They are a variety of false calls. These kinds of calls are not unusual. What is, I’m the only deputy that gets them.
David continued going through the entries, reading them one at a time. Heaviness in David’s chest made it hard to breath. Reading the journal was as if his friend reached out from the grave. A chilling tingle crawled over his body. He didn’t want to read Justin’s last words, thoughts, but his friend knew he was in danger. He left this in case something happened to him.
After a long while, they reached the last page in the entry.
* * * *
January 15, 1984
My life is in danger. I can’t prove it. It is a feeling. I still don’t know what’s going on, but I do know who is involved. Who ever finds this make sure it gets to FBI Agent David Mason. He’ll know what to do. David, if you’re reading this, think of the Sawyer case. I can’t be sure, but this may be similar. I’m going to put this book in a safe deposit box, but I’ll keep writing.
With tears rolling down his cheeks, David’s head dropped, fists clenched and opened, and clenched again. One of the agents, David wasn’t sure who, laid his hand on his shoulder.
Moments of strained silence passed while David attempted to compose himself. When he raised his head, he told Morgan to bring the book. When they left the bank, David sat behind the wheel without speaking.
Morgan cleared his throat. “There’s another diary some place.”
“We need to find it,” David said, the first words he’d spoken in a while.
“What do we do now?” Melvin asked.
David let a couple of minutes pass before he responded. “It’s time we had a talk with Ma Whistlam.”
* * * *
The three agents sat in David’s car, down the block from a trailer in the area called Fuller Springs. Paulette Whistlam lived in a small white trailer with a carport. When they pulled up and knocked several times without an answer, and saw no vehicles parked by the trailer, they assumed she was out and pulled away to wait for her to return.
Morgan and Melvin chatted with David only half paying attention. Morgan regaled Melvin with tales of his football playing days in high school when an older model, tan Plymouth pulled into the trailer’s carport, disrupting his fantasies. The driver parked, opened the back door, and hauled out a bag of groceries. They waited until she was inside before parking in her driveway.
When David knocked on the door, the smiling, small woman who looked just like a TV little old grandma opened the door and invited them in.
She ushered them from the front door through a spotless living room to the dining room table. Before they sat, David’s gaze scanned the small area. He caught Morgan out of the corner of his eye, doing the same.
“I’m glad I didn’t miss y’all,” Ms. Whistlam said. “I had to go to the grocery store. Wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon.”
David smoothed his hair. What is she talking about? He’d just made up his mind to come out here. How could she expect them?
Ms. Whistlam pulled up a chair to sit at the table with them. “Why does it take three of you insurance men to talk to me?”
Ahhh. She thinks we’re someone else. David gave her his best smile, reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge and ID. He identified himself and the other two.
A drastic changed shrouded t
he little grandma. Her demeanor, sweet and friendly, erupted into a grizzly bear. “What the fuck do y’all want with me?”
Her transformation and words caused the agents to jerk back. David, stunned, could only gape for a minute.
“You got no business in my house. Now get the fuck out.”
It took David a moment to recover. It had been a while since someone had shocked him like this. Melvin’s mouth hung open like a car door. David cocked his head. “Ma’am, we do have a right to be in your house. You invited us in.”
She leaped from her seat, knocking her chair over. Morgan’s hand streaked for his gun, but he froze with an embarrassed expression.
“Now I’m uninviting you. Get out.”
David pursed his lips and nodded a couple of times. He stood. “We’re going, ma’am. But we will be back.”
He strode toward the door, Morgan right behind him.
“Hey. Shitheads. Don’t fucking leave this one.”
David half-turned. Melvin, with his mouth catching flies, looking like he was in shock, remained seated. Morgan turned, ambled back, and grabbed him by the arm, leading Melvin out. Melvin couldn’t stop shaking his head. After he sat in the back of the car, he said, “Was that Ma Whistlam or Ma Barker?”
Morgan chuckled, but David slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “Damn, I fucked up.”
Morgan leaned back in the seat. “We all did.”
From the back seat, Melvin asked, “what’re you two talking about?”
David ignored his question. “We have to be a lot more careful than what we were. It’s my fault.”
“I can’t let you take all the blame,” Morgan said. “I should know better, too. This guy has killed two deputy sheriffs that we know of.”
David sucked in an exasperated, audible breath. “He wouldn’t hesitate to kill us, either.”