San Rafael Jacked

by Tom Ellis

  “I’ve heard that so many times. Jerry, my youngest can’t wait to leave for college. He received an appointment to the Coast Guard Academy.”

  “That is wonderful Theo. I bet you and Mrs. Cleckler are proud of both of them.”

  “We are. Jerry saw what the Coast Guard did during Katrina. He told me that was he was going to do. An old friend of mine, Andy Burns, talked him into applying for the Coast Guard Academy.”

  After a few more minutes of catch-up chit chat, Lois Thornton got up to leave. Theodis prayed with her and promised to keep Lyon Hamilton on his prayer list. With no more visitors expected, he went to work on his sermon. An hour later his phone rang. Theo checked the caller ID and greeted Jolene Hadfield warmly.

  Jolene drove through the gate at Burns place and watched it close automatically behind her. The years since she’d first driven through that gate were the most challenging of her life. And, the most satisfying. Most of that satisfaction was Andrew Burns. Her significant other. At times their relationship was one of the roommates as opposed to lovers. The L word had never passed between them. Of all the guest rooms in Burns house, one was officially her room. She had started out there the first night she stayed over after her troubles at Biloxi PD. After tossing turning and crying, she got up and went to Burn’s bedroom. All she said when she slipped into bed beside him was, ‘I need to be held.’ He obliged every night for the rest of that stay and never made a move to doing anything more. She spent most weekends at Burns, staying in Biloxi only during the times she was on call. The sleeping arrangement went on for six months. On occasions, she would start out in her room, and wind up with Burns. Other times, the most satisfying, were when she went directly to Burns bed. When she worked up the courage to ask him why he never made the move to have sex, his answer brought her to tears.

  ‘I’ve tried casual sex Hadfield and all it does for me is fill the physical need. It’s not going to be that way between us.’ When it did, it took her breath away, that time and every time since.

  It was an on call weekend when Hurricane Katrina ravaged the Gulf Coast. Jolene was Deputy Chief, and her leadership abilities challenged to their limits. When she finally had time to deal with her destroyed home. Jolene learned from the real estate management company that she owned the house, and her monthly rent payments were mortgage payments. Despite the stress wrought by the hurricane, the companies’ long-time secretary explained the situation to Hadfield. Her payments were on direct deduction from her checking account. The management firm forwarded these payments to the mortgage company, CRM Holdings, located in Orange Beach Alabama. CRM Holdings owned fourteen houses in Biloxi and Harrison County. The secretary told Jolene that Raifield Enterprises became CRM Holdings in 1996. The name change was because Mr. Raifield passed away. The managing officer of CRM Holdings was David Cromwell, lawyer, and accountant. He held the same job that he had when he worked for Mr. Raifield. At the direction of the corporation’s new owner, four of the fourteen properties were converted to mortgages. And the tenants became homeowners. The woman gave Jolene the phone number of CRM Holdings and apologized for not knowing who owned the company.

  Hadfield knew who owned CRM Holdings, and she was mad to the point of being livid! It didn’t help the situation when Andy Burns called to check on her and find out how she was holding up. Figuratively she bit his head off, told him where to go, and hung up the phone. Her anger over the matter seethed because she could not leave Biloxi and confront Burns, the owner of CRM Holdings. For Jolene, the situation caused a major rift in their relationship.

  Hadfield stopped to see Theodis Cleckler and found him looking out for those who took shelter in his church. He would not take no for an answer when he insisted she rest. A long nap on his office couch did wonders. She was at the point of exhaustion. Theo woke her after dark. He took the time to have coffee with her. Hadfield recalled the conversation as if it were yesterday.

  ‘Chief Jo I’ve spoken with Andy several times. He is concerned about you. He is sending you a care package with two of our members who went over to Alabama to pick up food. Andy has been busy helping get people fed and sheltered. He did say you were not in the best of moods last time you spoke to him. He knows your house is gone.’

  Hadfield was still out of sorts over the house and Burns. She told Theodis that and said more than she should have given the situation. It didn’t faze the pastor one bit.

  ‘I understand why you feel the way you do. You and Andy are in a serious relationship. You trust him and have found out he has gone behind your back and done something significant without your knowledge. Chief Jo, you have the right to be upset. I would be if something like that happened to me.

  ‘Andy will help a stranger without reservation. He has always been that way. Andy Burns would buy a meal for a panhandler while his police colleagues would throw the person in jail. That did not earn him a lot of trust among his fellow officers. I’ve told you how Charlie Raifield saved this church. Andy remembers that, and he helps those in need.

  ‘Just before all of our Biloxi Police troubles I called Andy about helping some of my church families. The cost was beyond our short-term help budget. Three families were going to be evicted from their homes for being behind on their rent. Andy called his business manager, Mr. David Cromwell, and asked him to look into the matter. It turned out that those families lived in houses Andy Burns didn’t know he owned. And like you, they had lived in them for years. His orders to Mr. Cromwell were very specific. The management company could not file eviction on any of Burns properties without his permission. Even Mr. Cromwell cannot give that permission. And the rent on properties would be forgiven until the people could start paying again. They would not have to pay the back rent owed either. Andy then told David Cromwell to consider those people to be paying on a no interest mortgage.

  ‘How did your house turn from rental to the mortgage? I don’t know. But I suspect it happened during our Biloxi Police troubles. You didn’t have a job for a while. I can’t break confidences, but if I had to guess, Andy Burns was behind a lot of the help that came your way. If you were to call David Cromwell, he might tell you how you came to own your house. But then Andy Burns signs his paycheck. So expect Mr. Cromwell not to volunteer Andy as being your benefactor.’

  Jolene remembered asking Theodis if it were possible Andy did not know Cromwell had changed her house from rent to mortgage. Cleckler told her that Andy Burns probably told his manager to make sure you didn’t lose your home. How Mr. Cromwell did that was up to him. And he would have reported it to his boss. The question was if his boss remembered?

  Weeks later, when she finally was able to take time off, Jolene drove to Baldwin County to see Burns. They had spoken via phone since the angry call. But the conversations were casual and civil. She walked in his house and promptly told him they had to talk and talk now. He acknowledged and asked her to have a seat. Burns excused himself for a moment and left her in the living room. When he returned, he carried a large manila envelope. It had her name on the front.

  ‘Jolene, something transpired a few years ago that I should have told you. With all that was happening at the time, I overlooked it. It is my fault and my fault alone. When you Biloxi PD fired you, I told David Cromwell to make sure you didn’t lose your house. David, if anything is meticulous at following instructions and making a record of it. When he learned you lived in a property, I owned and had lived there before I owned it. He converted it to a non-interest mortgage. He had done this previously when some tenants needed help and had been living in the houses for years. David faxed me a report with that information. I read it and filed it. My copy and his copy are in this envelope. All records on your house and the insurance settlement for it and all funds due you are in here as well.

  ‘I suggest you read everything carefully and retain David’s accounting services. Unless you are a CPA doing tax work, you will need him. As I understand, you have been living in your office. Jolene, you have a home here as lon
g as you want it. And I am sorry for the distress I have caused you by not telling this a long time ago.’

  Burns handed her the envelope and asked she read the contents before making any decisions. Hadfield opened the envelope and began to read the paperwork. When she got to the five figure check from CRM Holdings with her name on it. Jolene decided to forgive Burns imagined transgressions.

  She accepted a temporary FEMA trailer offer and eventually sold the lot it sat on after purchasing a condo. Biloxi PD’s chief retired and Hadfield agreed to serve as interim chief until a new chief took over. When that chief got settled into the job, Jolene took an early retirement and moved to Burns place. The same real estate management company she’d paid rent to for years now handled her condo.

  Chapter Four

  Jolene was on her way to meet Lois Hamilton Thornton at a trendy restaurant in Fairhope Alabama. The Nissan 350Z responded with a throaty exhaust roar when she tromped the throttle. Hadfield smiled, she enjoyed the thrill of driving the nimble vehicle. A retirement gift she purchased for herself. Her old Chevy truck was lovingly restored and turned into a hot rod with a new L88 engine under the hood. A couple of Burns’ customers did the restoration. The truck attracted people whenever she drove it to fishing tournaments; her Ranger bass boat hitched behind. A walking regimen kept aging weight gain at bay. Her hairdresser kept her shoulder-length red hair dark red. Approaching the big five-oh age, the 5’ 7” 135 pound Hadfield still looked good.

  The women arrived simultaneously and reintroduced themselves as the host seated them at a private table. They ordered lunch and made small talk before and after the meal. Over a cup of rich New Orleans-style chicory coffee, Jolene got to the point of their meeting.

  “Tell me about the situation with your brother. I understand he is a rancher in Arizona.”

  Lois Thornton sighed, and the expression on her face was troubled. “I like to hope he is still a rancher. But I want to know where he is. I’ve been trying to get in touch with him for two months. I’m afraid something bad has happened to him. And I can’t get any help from anyone in Arizona. I’ve spoken with the Santa Cruz County Sheriff himself. And he told me there was nothing he or his department could do for me. Lyon’s lawyer feels like the sheriff’s department is stonewalling me. The lawyer believes something is wrong.”

  “Theodis Cleckler speaks highly of your brother. Theo and my significant other, Andrew Burns, were in the Marines together. Andy was in the Border Patrol for a few years and was stationed at Naco before he came back to Alabama. He speaks fondly of a valley out there. Tell me about your brother and the ranch.”

  “Lyon Hamilton is my only sibling, my big brother. He was the rebellious teenager who moved out of our parent’s home in Tucson. He went to work on our grandparent’s ranch in the San Rafael Valley. Except for three years in the Navy, he has lived on the Rocking H Bar since he was sixteen. That ranch has been in our family since the days of Spanish land grants before Arizona was a territory much less a state.

  “That is why Lyon disappearing is so unusual. We would normally talk every couple of months or so. Most of the time Lyon would call me. He would say the same thing every time he called. ‘Haven’t heard from you in a while Sis just thought I’d call and catch up.’ It has been three years since I’ve seen him. My husband, the General, is not the ranch or farm type. His idea of the outdoors is a golf course. Truthfully, I am not a rancher either. I have three daughters, and none of us enjoyed visits to the ranch. During our more recent phone conversations, big brother seemed concerned about what would happen to the ranch when he passed on. One of my son in laws would like to see it turned into a real estate development. A gated community type thing. Talk like that would probably get him shot in the San Rafael.”

  “So it is serious ranch country and directions don’t include passing a Walmart.” Jolene quipped.

  “Chief Hadfield, I don’t think there is a Walmart within a two-hour drive of the Rocking H Bar. The official address of the ranch is a Post Office Box in Patagonia Arizona. And the ranch headquarters is twenty-five miles or more from that little town. And the paved road stops five miles south of town. The southern property line is the United States border with Mexico.

  “I realized a couple of months ago that it had been awhile since I talked to Lyon. My husband’s retirement from the Air Force and us relocating to Point Clear. The birth of another grandchild. I sat down one evening, figured the time difference would be after supper, and I called. A rather impolite man answered the phone and said Lyon Hamilton no longer lived there. After a few minutes trying to pry something out that jerk, he gave the phone to another man who somewhat more civil. This person said he had a quick claim deed to prove ownership. When I asked where my brother was. This man told me he had moved to the Fiji Islands. I asked how much he paid for the ranch; he said, “That was none of my damned business.” And he hung up the phone.

  “I have a durable power of attorney from Lyon in case something happened to him. I called the bank in Nogales Arizona that has handled his business for years. They would not talk to me, citing privacy rules. I retained a lawyer, David Cromwell in Orange Beach, to work with the bank and Lyon’s lawyer in Nogales on my behalf. It is going to take an in-person visit, and I’m not sure I can handle that. Mr. Cromwell advised I contact the district attorney and perhaps a local private investigator to assist me. Chief Hadfield, I want to hire you to go out there and happened to my brother. And if you're significant other, Mr. Burns can go with you I will pay his expenses as well.”

  Jolene saw the pain in the older woman’s eyes. There were a lot of questions Hadfield could ask. The bottom line was, somebody needed to be on the ground out there asking those questions.

  “Mrs. Thornton, I will help you. But first I want you to start calling me Jolene. Somebody needs to have boots on the ground out there asking questions. Andy has a friend who recently retired from the Cochise County Sheriff’s Department. He was an investigator. I will ask Andy if he will get in touch with him and ask if he will help. We will need someone who knows the ropes locally so to speak. I will also need you to authorize David Cromwell to share information with me. And I will need a limited power of attorney to access Lyon’s bank records. Also, do you know if he had a passport?”

  “Yes, he got a passport when they started requiring them to go into Mexico. For years you didn’t need one. All this Homeland Security business changed that. Lyon would go to Nogales Mexico to fill his prescriptions. I will contact Mr. Cromwell and give you whatever documentation you need. Money is not an object. I will pay whatever you wish for your time and all your travel expenses.”

  Jolene considered this for a moment before responding.

  “This trip will take some planning. I can’t give you a date as to when we can leave. You will hear from me by the end of the week if not before.”

  The gate alarm sounded, and Andrew Burns glanced up at the monitor screen above his work bench. He recognized the Silver Mercedes S-Class approaching his gate. It was the General. Burns activated the auto sensor, and the gate swung open. He knew the General would park in front of the house. Andrew was opening his front door when the trim fit man with short cropped steel gray hair came up the sidewalk.

  “Good morning Sir, it’s good to see you again.”

  “Likewise Andy,” the General said extending his hand.

  Once they were seated on the leather sofas in the living room with its wagon wheel chandelier and walls decorated with knives; the General gazed at the rock fireplace with a large Moose head above it and Pennsylvania flintlock rifle adorning the mantle. A small bronze cannon on a field carriage adorned one side of the hearth, a brass spittoon on the other.

  “Andy, how do you manage to keep this macho living room intact with your lady living in the house?”

  Burns smiled. “I gave her a couple of rooms in the back of the house as hers. And a credit card to do what she wanted. That has kept her decorating instincts at bay, so far.”
/>   “So far is right. Jolene will want to redo something that doesn’t need redoing. Like this room.”

  “I’ll let her build a house before this changes. I wish she would redo the kitchen; it is out of date.”

  “I’ve been through that, be careful.”

  “I trust her to do whatever she want’s in there. I just want her to start doing it. I’m not going to tell her to.”

  “That’s good, I would be in the poor house if I let my wife do whatever she wanted. But, she does me the courtesy of asking first. You know she is having lunch with Jolene as we speak.”

  “Oh, so you have driven over here to warn me of a redecorating conspiracy.”

  “I wish it were that simple. I understand you worked for the border patrol once in southern Arizona.”

  Andy smiled again; the General, during his thirty plus years of service he was in the intelligence business and had commanded the NSA. It was possible his retirement was on paper only. Behind his back, he was called General Clout. Something he wielded as necessary.

  “I expect you even know the name of the horses I rode.”

  “Just that you in the horse patrol out of Naco, and you also patrolled the San Rafael Valley when you weren’t shooting smugglers on the Mexican side of the line.”

  “They would send me to the San Rafael whenever dead narco trafficantes turned up on the other side of the fence. I think it was a punishment beat as cops would call it. Boring, nothing ever happened there. I would have volunteered to work the San Rafael all the time. Unfortunately, my wife was sick of Arizona and wanting to come home to Birmingham. I resigned, and we moved back to Alabama. I went back to work as a cop; we got divorced soon after.”

  “So you liked the San Rafael?”