“There were a couple of stabbings out there but those were over women,” Cliff began as pressed his brain for details. “And there was Jim Cole who was beaten to death with a pool cue out there. That was reportedly over a gambling debt. They charged Sid Bouldin with it but the jury ended up hung since all the witnesses as well as the victim were drunk when the killing happened. Some even claimed Earl Cutts did it himself trying to break up a brawl before they busted up his bar. I guess we’ll never know who did it for sure since Earl supposedly burned up when the Red Dog burned down.”
“Supposedly?” Sam asked.
“Well, sheriff, if you’d bother reading my story on the fire you’d notice they only found his dentures in the rubble,” Cliff responded. “Granted, it wasn’t the most meticulous fire scene investigation in history since your predecessor did it but they did sift through what was left and didn’t find any other remains. That’s why my story read he was assumed dead.”
“Couldn’t the fire have been hot enough to incinerate his remains?” Sam posed.
“Sure, and that’s probably what happened. It was a huge fire. The flames could be seen clearly all the way in town,” Cliff agreed. “It really doesn’t matter since Earl would be pretty deep into his eighties by now if he wasn’t burned up in the fire.”
“What did you mean about my predecessor?” Sam asked.
The sheriff caught the reporter’s barb at the former sheriff’s handling of the crime scene investigation.
“All I’m saying is no one went out of their way to figure out who torched the place,” Cliff said. “They didn’t even call in the fire marshal’s office. They just worked it themselves, the sheriff’s department that is, and shoved it in the closed case files. If you ask me they were glad Earl went up in smoke along with the old Red Dog. I got the feeling they really didn’t want to find out who done it.”
While enlightened by the reporter’s chronicling of the history of the old bar, Sam was still disappointed as the newsman had been unable to shed any light on a connection between the murders and the long-gone tavern.
“I suppose a lot of secrets burned up along with the late Mr. Cutts,” Sam surmised. “I’d hoped to find a common thread between our murders and the old bar but I guess that was just wishful thinking.”
“Sorry I couldn’t help you sheriff but I honestly can’t think of anything that would have hung around so long, that is unless Earl Cutts has come back from the ashes to seek his revenge,” Cliff chuckled as he banged his pipe on the edge of his desk as if to clean it out. “You don’t believe in ghosts do you sheriff?”
“Hey, after the past couple of days I’m not so sure anymore,” Sam admitted.
“Okay, your turn,” Cliff countered. “I’ve shared my vast knowledge of local history, now it’s your turn to give me the scoop on what happened out there this morning. Your men have the place sealed off tight.”
“Yeah, I told them to keep the press away,” Sam quipped. “Especially old farts that carry pipes. Do you ever smoke that thing?”
“Smoking is bad for you sheriff,” Cliff responded as he indignantly shoved the pipe back in his mouth. “Now tell me about our latest murder. You can start with our victim’s name. Your boys wouldn’t even give me that.”
Sam was surprised the veteran reporter hadn’t been able to get the name already. He must be slipping in his old age.
“Our victim’s name is Eddie Young, age forty-two, an employee of…” Sam began before being cut off by the newsman.
“Eddie Young?” Cliff asked. “As strange as it sounds, that rings a bell.”
“It should. He’s lived here all his life,” Sam responded. “You probably had him on a couple of your court dockets.”
“No, I mean it rings a bell with what you were talking about,” Cliff clarified. “Eddie and our last victim, Andy Crouch, was old running buddies and frequented the Red Dog.”
“Yeah I knew that,” Sam said. “I went there a couple of times back in the day myself.”
“It’s more than that sheriff,” Cliff continued. “They were part of a little clique that kind of ruled the roost out there just before the fire closed the doors permanently.”
“Ah, okay. So I suppose they made some enemies then,” Sam said. “Anyone in particular you can recall?”
“Actually, now that you put the two together, yes, there was something,” Cliff said, his comment causing the sheriff to raise an eyebrow. “It was really little more than rumor. Nothing was ever proven but there was a lot of talk and this was right before the fire.”
“Well, don’t keep a man waiting,” Sam said with a tone of excitement in his voice.
“Word was that not long before the fire there was an incident that happened out at the club involving the group your two recent victims were in,” Cliff began. “They hung out with three or four tough guy wannabes pretty well every Saturday night.”
“Any recollection who these other guys were?” Sam asked.
Sitting silently in deep thought, it was apparent Cliff was trying to rip the memory from the back of his mind.
“One of them was none other than the sheriff’s own son,” Cliff began, referring to Bart Foster.
Cliff's recollection confirmed Sam’s suspicion that Bart was connected with the first two victims. Something in the sheriff's gut told him Bart was deeply involved in whatever was going on.
"I think another was Stevie Grissom.” Cliff added after another moment of thought.
Cliff paused again in an attempt to recall the other names, his face pained as he pushed himself to remember. He reluctantly gave up, hopelessly stuck.
“I can’t remember the other two, or maybe there were three,” Cliff admitted. “I may not have even known them anyway, I just know there was a gang of six or seven and they were real hellions.”
“Okay, so you say there was something happened involving their group,” Sam interjected.
“Yes, well the rumor was that one night there were some girls went out there, young girls, teenagers,” Cliff said.
The old newsman leaned forward as one often would when repeating a rumor.
“At some point the other girl, or girls, went home and left one of them alone there with that drunken group of thugs. Well, one thing led to another and the girl was raped by them, gang raped from what I heard.”
“Why didn’t I ever hear about this?” Sam asked. “This is the first time I’ve heard anything like that.”
Sam had lived in Castle County all his life with the exception of his time in the military. He figured he would have heard about something as heinous as a young girl being raped at the shady night spot.
“Well, first off, there were never any charges brought so that’s why you didn’t see it in the pages of the newspaper,” Cliff began. “And second there never was an investigation since the sheriff’s son was right in the middle of it. Word was the girl was either run off or paid off and the whole thing was dropped. It wasn’t long after that the bar burned down and their old gang broke up.”
“Do you remember the girl’s name?” Sam inquired. “Any idea where she went or who her family was or even who she was with that night?”
“I’m sorry sheriff but I’ve slept since then,” Cliff responded, obviously irritated with his own memory. “But if it comes to me I’ll call you.”
“You do that if you would,” Sam requested.
The sheriff was encouraged by Cliff's recollections despite the obvious holes in the old reporter's memory.
“Okay, now, about the head,” Cliff asked as he looked for his reward for the information he had just provided.
“Gone,” Sam shot back.
“Gone?” Cliff asked.
“Yes, nowhere to be found,” Sam confirmed. “We assume the killer took it with him as a souvenir.”
“Do have any idea on the murder weapon sheriff?” Cliff wondered.
“Yes, something sharp,” Sam quipped as he got up to leave. “I’ll call you once we have anyth
ing else we can tell you. You do the same with me if you recall anymore names. And remember, mums the word on the whole Red Dog thing. And, it’s up to you, but for Eddie’s mother’s sake, keep the whole missing head thing on the down low if you would. He’s having a closed casket and she never actually viewed the body so she doesn’t know his head is, well, that his head isn’t with the rest of him. It’s up to you but I’d say "Dark Man Sought in Killing Spree.". I think that might sell a few papers.”
“You have my word, sheriff,” Cliff said, crossing his heart. “Just make sure I get the exclusive and the book rights. And I like the headline. If you ever get tired of being sheriff come down here and I’ll put you to work.”
Sam was intercepted by Kendal Parks as he stepped out the door of the paper. The trim, slightly balding investigator pulled into the parking lot just as the sheriff exited the building.
“I got them,” Kendal said as he waved a handful of papers. “It took a little bit but I got them.”
Sam scratched his head as the excited investigator jumped out of his car. What was the detective talking about?
“The phone records,” Kendal reminded the sheriff. “We know who Eddie Young called and when. All he had was a landline. His cellphone was cut off for nonpayment.”
His eyes lighting up given Kendal’s quick work, Sam took the documents from his investigator.
“Nice work, Kendal,” Sam said.
The investigator beamed with pride from the sheriff's compliment.
Scanning the paper, Sam immediately noticed several calls the day of Eddie’s death to the same number. Only one of the calls took up any time.
“Do we know who this call was to?” he asked as he pointed to the frequently called number; the first call made around the time Sam visited Eddie's home.
Kendal referred to his notes and promptly provided the answer.
“That would be Foster Motors,” Kendal replied. "It's actually registered to Bart Foster."
Sam ran his finger down the page of numbers and came to the last call made in the mid-evening hours. The single number reflected a call lasting about five minutes.
“Who’s this?” Sam asked as Kendal again referred to the papers.
“That would be to a Karen and Stevie Grissom,” Kendal replied.
His answer sent up a red flag. “Bingo!” Sam exclaimed.
“Excuse me,” Kendal said, wondering what caused the sheriff’s reaction.
The sheriff didn’t want to reveal his suspicions until he had a few more pieces of evidence to support the theory so he decided to keep his thoughts to himself. He also didn’t want to reveal what could be a crack in the case to one investigator before the other since that could cause issues between the two lawmen who often seemed more like jealous siblings rather than fellow officers of the law.
“Nothing,” Sam replied with a bit of guilt. “Well, maybe nothing, maybe something. I’ll let you know when I know.”
Confused by his boss’ odd statement, Kendal chalked it up to overwork and the stress of having two unsolved homicides in his county.
“If you say so,” Kendal said.
Stepping back in his cruiser, Kendal revealed he was going to meet with the crime lab techs back at the murder scene.
“I’ll let you know if they find anything,” the detective promised as he pulled away.
Now armed with a possible connection between the Red Dog and his two murder victims, Sam made a calculated gamble. He realized Bart would have been the ringleader of the group given his reputation both then and now as an alpha male. Sam would make a play for the weak link, Stevie Grissom. Perhaps the fact two of his former running mates were dead, both victims of grisly murders, would scare him into being forthcoming unlike Eddie the day before.
Sam pulled up to the Grissom home in the upper middle class neighborhood of Easton. He immediately noticed a minivan in the drive. Maybe he would have better luck than he had the day before.
Sam rang the doorbell and was soon greeted at the door by Stevie Grissom. His eyes gave him away as soon as he saw the lawman standing at his door.
“Mind if I come in?” Sam asked.
He immediately noticed Stevie’s body language which told him his reluctant host was very nervous about the sheriff’s visit.
Why would a good, law-abiding citizen be nervous to see the sheriff?
“Um, sure sheriff,” Stevie stuttered, looking around outside as if to see if any of his neighbors were watching.
Sam stepped into the nicely decorated house. A woman’s touch obvious in the décor.
“Is anyone else here?” Sam asked as he did a look around inside the well-kept house.
“No. I’m about to pick up the kids at school in a few minutes,” Stevie responded in a nervous voice. “The wife is at work at the hospital. She’s the administrator there.”
“I see,” Sam said. “So you’re off today?”
Stevie responded in a quiet tone. He was obviously uncomfortable with the question.
“Well, I do some day trading from my home office, take care of the kids and things like that,” Stevie replied.
“Ah, you’re a house husband,” Sam declared.
His description left Stevie with a look of embarrassment. He must not have cared much for the characterization.
“Don’t worry Stevie; I’d do the same thing if I could,” the sheriff smiled.
“So what can I do for you sheriff?” Stevie timidly asked.
“Actually it’s what I can do for you,” Sam replied. “I’m sure you’ve heard about your old buddy Andy Crouch being killed yesterday.”
“Um yes, that was too bad,” Stevie said. “I hated to hear that.”
“Well, this morning we found another one of your friends ... Eddie Young,” Sam said.
His revelation caused Stevie’s face to turn white as a sheet. He wasn't prepared for the bombshell.
“We think the killings are related,” Sam noted.
Stevie walked over to the kitchen table to sit down. He was visibly shaken by the news.
“I just talked to him last night,” Stevie confessed with his eyes starting to well-up with tears. “We talked for a couple of minutes and then I put him off. I guess I should have took my time and listened to him. I didn’t realize that’d be the last time we would talk.”
“What did he call about?” Sam asked. “You know you may have been the last person he talked to.”
Stevie’s eyes shifted, his body language letting the sheriff know he was going to evade his question.
“Oh, nothing in particular. Just a bunch of ranting,” Stevie replied.
Stevie became choked up given the realization he was likely the last person his old friend talked to.
“It sounded like he’d been drinking so I just kind of tuned him out,” he noted.
Seeing Stevie was legitimately moved by the passing of his old friend, Sam pressed to establish the connection between him and the old Red Dog gang.
“You used to hang out with both of them didn’t you? Eddie and Andy that is?” Sam asked.
“I suppose so but that was a long time ago, back when we were just dumb kids,” Stevie responded as he refused to return the sheriff's gaze. “There’s a lot that’s changed since then.”
“As a matter of fact I think you all had a little clique out at the old Red Dog Saloon back in the day didn’t you?” Sam accused.
The sheriff's question left his host visibly shaking. Stevie rubbed his hands together nervously as he tried to repress his sense of panic.
“We did hang out there some,” Stevie admitted. “It was something to do on the weekends.”
Sam pressed on, detecting he was hitting a nerve. Beads of sweet began forming on Stevie's brow as the sheriff continued his line of questioning.
“Any idea why someone from back in the Red Dog day would want to see your old friends dead?” Sam asked with his eyes fixed on Stevie.
“No,” Stevie stammered in an obvious lie. “What makes
you think it has anything to do with the Red Dog?”
“We have evidence is all I can say… compelling evidence,” Sam revealed. “We also have reason to believe whoever is doing this isn’t through.”
“What does that mean?” Stevie asked as he swallowed hard.
“That means we think someone is looking for payback for something that happened at the Red Dog,” Sam declared. “Any idea of what that could be?”
Stevie sat silently, nervously shaking his head, denying he knew the killer’s motive.
“Well someone is pretty mad … mad enough to kill,” Sam declared.
“I don’t know what it would have to do with me,” Stevie said. “I haven’t hung out with that group in years. I’m a totally different person now.”
“You know there are some things for which there’s no redemption,” Sam said in a serious tone.
Stevie was in a state of panic, something he was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep from his visitor. He had to get out of there or he would break down. He wasn’t built for this kind of stress.
“I’m sorry sheriff but I don’t know anything else,” Stevie said as he stood up from the table and glanced at his watch. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to be picking up the kids. It’s almost time for school to get out and you know how the traffic is around the campus.”
Sam realized Stevie was heading down the same road of denial as Eddie did the night he was killed.
“Something happened at Red Dog years ago, something very bad,” Sam began. “I think you know what it is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about sheriff,” Stevie claimed as he grabbed his coat as if he were about to go out the door.
“There was a girl,” Sam blurted out.
Stevie stopped dead in his tracks. He forgot to even breathe. His worst nightmare was coming to pass. Someone knew what happened.
“A teenage girl," he pressed on. "Something very bad happened to her that night.”
Stevie turned around to face the sheriff and spoke in a pleading voice. Tears were now rolling down his cheeks as he shook like a leaf.
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