Harm's Reach

by Alex Barclay

  Delores nodded. ‘Yes. Gee, that must be twenty years old now … sons of one of the women who used to stay here. Sweet, sweet boys.’

  ‘It’s nice that they thought of you,’ said Ren.

  ‘It sure is,’ said Delores. ‘I’m sorry for the confusion I seem to have caused about the day of the robbery. I do recall answering all your questions, but they were all focused on the burning car. On the subject of the robbery, because you said you were working with the Sheriff’s Office, I assumed that all your records were together. And on a day like that, certainly, that it would be even more important that everything was linked in a way that would help you all carry out your investigation in the most convenient and practical way.’

  BURN.

  Ren and Robbie walked away from the cabin.

  ‘Fail,’ said Ren.

  ‘Yes,’ said Robbie.

  ‘She was a little jumpy about the postcard,’ said Ren. ‘Maybe some of them have contents of a “personal” nature.’

  ‘Doesn’t bear thinking about,’ said Robbie.

  ‘What made me laugh,’ said Ren, ‘was her saying that Burt Kendall was good to them. I noticed a big fat Kendall’s sticker along the windscreen of that fresh-from-the-box minibus that the abbey ladies were cruising around in. He had about fifty thousand reasons to be nice to them.’ She paused. ‘Though, they probably buy a bus about once every thirty years.’

  Robbie smiled. Ren took out her phone. She had one bar. She Googled Kendall’s. The company appeared across a range of auto and transport sites. She clicked on an article from the Conifer Courier. There was a photo of Evergreen Abbey’s bus and, standing in front of it, Burt Kendall shaking hands with Eleanor Jensen.

  ‘I stand corrected,’ said Ren. ‘Kendall donated the bus to the abbey. I am a bad person. I am not charitable.’

  Her phone beeped with a text from Janine.

  Update with Kohler at 3 if you’re free …

  Ren showed Robbie the text.

  ‘Do we qualify as free while our bandits are still on the loose?’ said Robbie.

  ‘Like, what would Gary do?’ said Ren.

  ‘Let’s face it – it’s more a question of “What would Ren do?” … despite what Gary would do …’

  34

  Janine was winding up a call when Robbie and Ren arrived into her office.

  ‘Well, that wasn’t great news,’ she said. ‘That was my guy in New York about the Viggi Leinster and Angelo Marianelli case. He says that the detectives who took the original statements were rookies … one of them was shot dead in the line of duty within six months, the other quit the force shortly afterwards. The sergeant in charge of the case was promoted a year later to lieutenant, but was eventually jailed for corruption a few months shy of his retirement.’

  ‘Noo … that does not sound great,’ said Ren.

  ‘So, as to why there were not more statements from the fancy guests, it could be down to rookie errors, intimidation, bribes … the list is endless.’

  ‘And if the Vescovis wanted less hassle with their business,’ said Ren, ‘they may have been very happy to go along with whoever was paying cash for silence.’

  ‘So,’ said Janine, ‘we know Mr Vescovi is dead and his wife is still alive. One fresh piece of information is that they have a daughter. Her name is Carolina. She would have been eight in 1957. Apparently she went off the rails young, got into alcohol, drugs, disappeared off to Florida … she’s been estranged from the family for years.’

  ‘Any Laura Flynn link?’ said Ren.

  ‘No,’ said Janine. ‘I should have just opened with that …’

  ‘Or kept it as a cliffhanger,’ said Ren. ‘I could ask Eli Baer to see if he can get anything on the daughter?’

  ‘Sure, go ahead,’ said Janine. ‘I’ll do the same. Many hands …’

  Kohler’s briefing kicked off at three fifteen.

  ‘Gentleladies and gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Here is your lowdown on our most recent developments on the Laura Flynn investigation. Still no trace of the weapon. The phone dump from Laura Flynn’s phone hasn’t thrown up anything unusual. The same goes for the Princes. They both tried her cell phone on Sunday night and Monday morning, neither got through. There are no records of anyone being admitted to hospital on May 14th with gunshot wounds or with burns that might have come from either the vehicle used in the robbery or the one at the ranch. We tracked down Laura Flynn’s ex-boyfriend, Johnny Lynch, who has been living in Argentina for the past year, so he’s out of the picture.’

  Ren put up her hand. ‘Did you guys take a statement from Burt Kendall from Kendall’s Auto Sales?’

  ‘I did,’ said Logan.

  ‘Could you just double-check what he said about bringing Delores Ward back from Conifer the day of the robbery?’ said Ren.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ said Kohler.

  ‘Nothing in particular – I just wanted confirmation and to make sure he didn’t see anything on the road.’

  Kohler nodded. ‘Well, I can tell you one piece of news about Kendall, for what it’s worth – he’s just filed for bankruptcy.’

  ‘What?’ said Ren. ‘I read this morning that he donated a bus to Evergreen Abbey only last month.’

  ‘Really?’ said Kohler. ‘I’m not sure about that.’

  ‘Check it out,’ said Ren. ‘It was in the Conifer Courier. Eleanor Jensen was right there in the photo shaking his hand. Who donates a fifty-thousand-dollar bus when their business is about to go under?’

  ‘So maybe he did torch the car for insurance,’ said Janine.

  ‘He’s got an alibi for that morning,’ said Logan. ‘He was in Conifer from ten a.m. until two p.m. – there are multiple witnesses.’

  ‘And two p.m. was when he gave Delores Ward a ride back to her cabin at the abbey,’ said Ren.

  ‘Strange that he didn’t mention that part to me,’ said Logan.

  ‘Well, regardless of where he was, he could have gotten someone else to take care of the arson job,’ said Janine.

  ‘Some employees, maybe,’ said Logan. ‘A little overtime …’

  ‘He’s certainly got no problem hiring a loser or two,’ said Kohler, ‘but nothing came up on any of them. Or on any of the construction crew at the site. His sales staff are also clear. We’ll keep looking.’

  Ren and Robbie arrived back at Safe Streets just before six and filled everyone in on the briefing. Ren grabbed a bottle of water and settled at her desk. Her phone beeped with a text.

  Home safe. Can’t wait to see you next week … x

  She smiled.

  Me too. Sorry you’re doing all the traveling …

  He texted back:

  Physically. You get the Ramblin’ Mind …;-)

  Nick Cave. The Jeffrey Lee Pierce Sessions Project. She loved his taste in music.

  She texted back a smile.

  ‘Just a thought,’ said Cliff. ‘Does Kendall supply any cars for use at the ranch? Like the bus to the rehab?’

  ‘Oh, Lord no,’ said Ren. ‘They have a little fleet of executive vans. So strange, these cars – the promise of fancy on the outside, while inside lies the sad and shabby reality of kids on their way to rehab.’

  ‘Where do they go?’ said Cliff.

  ‘Wellness Partners at the Denver Tech Center,’ said Ren.

  ‘Great location,’ said Cliff. ‘I guess these rich kids can fly into Centennial on their private jets, get hustled into rehab under cover of darkness … or driven to The Darned Heart. That’s what – a forty-minute drive?’

  Ren shifted forward in her seat. ‘Hold up,’ she said. ‘Something is rollerskating around the edge of my consciousness. And it’s picking up speed. What is it, what is it?’ She paused. ‘Robbie!’ She turned to him. ‘The day after the murder, when we came to the ranch to speak with Kristen Faule. Do you have the photos you took?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Robbie. He slid his iPad from the bottom drawer of his desk. ‘Why?’

  ‘Do you remember the ji
zz car?’ said Ren.

  ‘Jizz car …’ said Cliff. ‘Do I want to know?’

  Robbie opened his photo gallery.

  ‘Look!’ said Ren. ‘There it is! That spatter across the car …’ She paused. ‘Pale pink.’

  ‘Now I’m totally disturbed,’ said Cliff.

  ‘What is it?’ said Robbie.

  ‘It’s strawberry milkshake,’ said Ren. ‘Evangelists and strawberry milkshakes. Go to YouTube: Howard Coombes, Centennial Airport.’

  They all watched the video of Howard Coombes’ radio interview outside Centennial Airport. Ren paused when the milkshake struck. It spattered behind Coombes onto the car.

  ‘I was wondering why Coombes didn’t fly into Denver,’ said Ren, ‘and I was wondering what the hell he was doing butting in to Colorado business. I think he was here for another reason, and he was using his various appearances as a cover.’ She paused. ‘Google Image his family.’

  There were lots of individual shots of Howard Coombes, and some with him and his wife. There were many more photos of the second most famous member of the family – child evangelist Jesse Coombes in his early years, dressed in his perfect little suits, or shirts and ties, standing in front of crowds in the tens of thousands, holding a microphone the size of his head.

  The most recent photos of the entire Coombes family together were three years old. Ren studied them carefully.

  I knew that boy was familiar …

  ‘Everyone, I believe – I beLIEVE! – we have a mini-me-vangelist in our dirty midst!’ said Ren. ‘Looks like Howard Coombes’ son, Jesse, is a “guest” at The Darned Heart Ranch. We met while I was pretending to be a smoker … and he was pretending to be a counselor.’

  Cliff leaned back in his chair. ‘Well, how the mighty … tween … has fallen … How old is he now?’

  ‘Sixteen,’ said Ren. ‘But he’d stopped preaching at about twelve … right before his father’s sex scandal blew up. Can you imagine? You get put into regular school for some attempt at a normal life and this shit hits the fan. There was definitely some other fucked-up story about the Coombes,’ she said. ‘I just can’t remember what it was or where I heard it …’

  ‘It needs to pick up speed in the roller derby,’ said Cliff.

  ‘You said it,’ said Ren. She was typing as she spoke.

  ‘Where do they live, the Coombes?’ said Cliff.

  ‘California now. Dallas, back then,’ said Ren.

  She called up Jesse Coombes’ preaching videos on YouTube. She stuck in her earphones. She remembered a documentary she had seen on him and how the female interviewer had been kind to him, but whenever the opportunity arose, had asked him about his childhood, whether he felt he was missing out, and each time he deflected. It was an extraordinary display of wits for a child so young. Ren scrolled along to the final few minutes of the documentary.

  ‘Do you think you have missed out on a “normal” childhood?’ the interviewer was saying.

  ‘No, ma’am,’ said Jesse, ‘but I do believe that there are millions of children all across the world who are. They are missing out on the childhood that the Lord wants them to have because they have not become familiar with His word. I wake up every morning with God by my side, I go to sleep every night the same. Sometimes, if it’s a hot night and the air is very still, but then, suddenly, I feel a soothing breeze at my ear, I know that that is the Lord’s breath. The Lord is speaking to me. And He is speaking to everyone through the scriptures. I have a childhood that is better than “normal”. I am never lonely. I am never without His wisdom. I can open my Bible on any page and I will receive answers to my problems.’

  ‘And Jesse, you are six years old,’ said the interviewer, ‘would you mind telling the viewers what kind of problems you might seek guidance for …?’

  ‘Why, Lord Jesus, I might say, why are sinners so blind to your light? Why, when they can see all around them all that is good, all that you have created, how can they spite you with their adultery, their fornication?’

  The interviewer looked almost frozen. She couldn’t ask what she wanted to ask. Instead, she just said, ‘Well, thank you, Jesse, for talking to us.’

  Annd thank you for the ratings.

  Ren pulled out the earphones.

  She did another search and found one of Jesse’s more popular videos: Jesse Coombes, Austin, pink dress girl.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ said Ren to everyone. ‘Gather round for a flavor of the madness. This is Jesse Coombes at the height of his fame.’

  She turned her computer screen to the rest of the office, shifted her seat so she could watch too and hit Play.

  In the video, Jesse Coombes was no more than ten years old, dressed in neat navy blue pants, a white shirt and a gold-and-blue striped neck-tie. This time he had a headworn microphone. In the audience stood a girl of a similar age, looking at him adoringly, entranced, doing everything he was asking the crowd to do – clap, cry out, turn to the person beside them. The video cut to the girl at the end, when Jesse was meeting people. Her mother was behind her, pushing her toward him, like she was offering her as a sacrifice. Jesse Coombes’ eyes were glazed.

  ‘He has fans,’ said Ren. ‘He has mothers wanting to marry off their daughters to him. Mothers who are waiting until he grows up and is old enough to date. Creepsville.’

  The comments below the video ran the full length of the spectrum.

  ‘I was lucky enough to see Jesse Coombes …’

  ‘Dude, that is some messed-up shit …’

  ‘Everyone KNOWS you like the flames.’

  ‘Creeeeepy …’

  ‘So moving …’

  ‘His message is true to this day …’

  Lunacy is, indeed, in the eye of the beholder.

  35

  Gary leaned into the bullpen and called Ren out.

  ‘OK – what the hell?’ he said. ‘You’re on YouTube, when you should be—’

  ‘It’s not like I’m watching cat videos,’ said Ren. ‘It’s Laura Flynn. Howard Coombes, the evangelist – his son is staying at The Darned Heart.’

  ‘So?’ said Gary.

  ‘There’s something weird about the kid,’ said Ren. ‘I remember hearing a story … oh … now I remember … from a cop at a conference in Austin. It was a late night … I can’t remember the details … or the cop.’

  Gary stared at her. ‘Quick … get the AUSA on the line.’

  Funny.

  ‘The Laura Flynn case is not ours,’ said Gary. ‘And you know that no one is going to get near the son of Howard Coombes.’

  ‘I know that we’re not running the show,’ said Ren. ‘But—’

  ‘Ren of the “I know, buts”.’

  ‘I know—’ Stop.

  ‘You’re too involved,’ said Gary. ‘Focus on the bandits. I want them shut down.’

  And I want you to shut the fuck UP. ‘OK,’ said Ren.

  ‘And don’t forget your appointment next week with—’

  Yes, trust me, Gary. Trust me to take care of the appointment … that I had completely forgotten about.

  ‘I won’t,’ said Ren. She walked back into the bullpen, her blood pressure soaring.

  She sat down at her desk and opened the bandits file. She spent two hours with it, stopping only to put in eye drops. She went back to it again for another hour.

  Bullet/brain. Hot needles/eyes.

  Ren watched the surveillance footage of the Conifer robbery again. And again. Everett brought her coffee and a custard Danish. She wanted to cry. She kept watching the screen.

  Bingo.

  She stood up from her desk. ‘I’ve got it! I’ve got it!’ Ha, Gary!

  ‘Got what?’ said Cliff.

  Ren called Gary. ‘Can you come in here?’ she said.

  ‘Is it urgent?’

  ‘Yes.’ Thank you very much.

  ‘Based on my exhaustive research,’ Ren announced, ‘I can tell you with no small amount of authority that Conifer was not the Shark Bait Bandits. It w
as a copycat robbery.’

  Cliff did one of his signature moves: forearms on the desk, chair wheeled closer.

  ‘I’m provisionally suggesting the Copier Bandits,’ said Ren. ‘Though, we may never encounter them again … it was probably a one-off.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ said Gary. He had his hands on his hips.

  ‘Exhibit A was an admin error on our part,’ said Ren. ‘Some of the Glendale photos on our site were from an old robbery in 2010. The photos had similar titles, so don’t go killing whoever did this. It was an easy mistake to make. And, hey, if they hadn’t made it, I wouldn’t have been so enlightened.

  ‘So, where you see this guy in the video clearly wearing one of those big green plastic watches, that was not part of our Shark Bait Bandits’ kit. So, whoever did the Conifer robbery got a bum steer when they researched the Shark Bait Bandits. I get why they chose them – their masks almost completely obscure their faces, and they’re easy to find in stores. One small detail, though, is that in the Aurora robbery, they’re the original brand. Our Conifer bandits are wearing knock-offs; they’re a fraction of the price.’

  ‘So, the Shark Bait Bandits are slightly less desperate for cash …’ said Cliff.

  Ren laughed. ‘Exhibit B is that this dude’s belly is fake.’ She pointed to the guy in Conifer standing on the counter holding up the AK-47. ‘Because I’ve had fake, folding baby bumps on my mind recently, I looked back over this. There’s a moment here where the butt of the rifle sticks into his belly and it makes an indentation; a squishy-looking one. Our guy has a pillow up there, or padding of some kind, because he wants to look like our Shark Bait guy, who – you can see in the original videos – has a very real belly, because in one of them, it’s peeping out from under his shirt. Also, when our fake guy jumps down from the counter, you can see the belly fold.

  ‘My theory,’ said Ren, ‘is that the Conifer robbery was carried out by a couple of locals. Psychologically, they’re choosing their comfort zone because they’re amateurs, but they’re also trying to attach it to an outside gang they hope will never be caught.’

  ‘So we’re throwing Conifer back to JeffCo,’ said Gary.