by Ed Robinson
We took off for a year and cruised the Caribbean. After we returned to Florida, the FBI called her to come to Washington. She was ordered to return to duty. Her refusal didn’t sit well with the Director, Christopher Wray. We used all the political influence we could muster to put Wray in his place. He conceded the argument grudgingly. Someone in his circle put a hit out on Brody and me as her associate. Wray tried to stop it, but the assassin went underground.
We took him out when he attempted to ambush us at a marina in southwest Florida. The FBI had egg on its face and fell all over itself to make amends to us. We were never charged with a crime in the death of the assassin. It was all swept under the rug. The incident had a lot to do with us fleeing to the mountains. Now we were associated with another death. I started to understand why the Bureau would be suspicious.
Bowdich shook my hand with a firm grip and look directly into my eyes. I gripped his hand just as hard and returned his gaze.
“Mr. Breeze, right?” he asked.
“Just Breeze is fine,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”
“I won’t bullshit around with you two,” he said. “This just looks ugly. You show up here and immediately someone turns up dead on your property. Hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?”
“We were just minding our own business,” I told him. “It’s why we came here. Not to be bothered by shit like this. We haven’t socialized, made friends, or attended civic functions. Hell, we’ve only gone out to dinner once. We don’t know a soul up here. We can’t help it if some vagrant gets shot on our mountain.”
“I got the impression that you knew the victim,” he said. “You identified him to the Deputies that responded.”
“Bumped into him up there,” I said. “Exchanged pleasantries. He seemed harmless enough.”
“What were you doing up there?”
“Hiking,” I said. “Exploring the woods.”
“And what were you doing, Brody?”
“I’m not really into hiking,” she said. “I was here, baking bread or something. I never met the man.”
“Aren’t you guys going to investigate?” I asked. “He wasn’t shot in my living room. You should be trying to find his killer, not harassing us.”
“Our detectives are busy down in Boone,” said Sheriff Watts. “I’ll do some looking around if you can direct me to where you found him. They’ll be up here later.”
“I’ll be standing by for a few days,” said Bowdich. “Wait on the coroner’s report and see what the detectives have to say. I have to ask you not to leave the area. I’ll be in touch.”
“On what authority?” asked Brody. “You can’t interfere in their investigation. We don’t plan to go anywhere, but why the strong arm?”
“Breeze found the body,” he said. “If not a person of interest, he’s at least a material witness.”
“That would be for the Sheriff to decide,” she said.
We all turned to look at Watts, who didn’t like the position Bowdich was putting him in.
“Listen, Director,” he said. “Whatever your interest in these two is, it likely has little or nothing to do with a dead homeless man. Unless we stumble onto a rifle cartridge or some other obvious evidence, we’ll likely never know who the shooter is. We could get a warrant and search this cabin for a rifle if that’s what you want, but I really have no reason to suspect Breeze of wrongdoing here. As he said, we didn’t even know of his presence. Haven’t heard a peep out of him or about him. We’ll make an honest effort to solve the case, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. I have your contact information. I’ll let you know if and when we have anything of interest.”
“Thank you, Sheriff,” said Bowdich. “But I’ll stick around just the same. At least until I can see the initial findings.”
“While not obligated to share any of this with you,” said Watts. “I’ll share out of professional courtesy. You’ll know what we know.”
“Thank you again, Sheriff.”
Bowdich left and I took Watts up the hill to my manufactured crime scene. There was a now-dried blood stain on the grass where I’d positioned the body. The surrounding area was mostly rock. A morning dew had perked the grass up, concealing any trace of footprints. I examined the rocks carefully, looking for more blood or muddy tracks I may have left behind.
“This is one of the few open areas on this hill,” said Watts. “Too many vantage points for a rifle. I can’t see us tracking down the spot where the weapon was fired. At least not quickly.”
“The shooter wasn’t likely in the open,” I said. “Probably set up on the edge of the woods.”
“I’ll leave that for the detectives,” he said. “If they care to even look. This is the tiniest needle in a great big haystack.”
“I’d offer to help but they probably don’t want me bumbling around a crime scene,” I said.
“They won’t do much more than bumble themselves,” he said. “They ain’t exactly CSI.”
“And there’s no pressure to solve a bum’s murder?”
“I hate to admit it,” he said. “But this won’t be a high priority. They’ll go through the motions for less than a day.”
“Which leaves me with a killer loose on my mountain,” I said.
“Any idea why someone may have killed him?”
“Impossible to know,” I said. “Maybe a poacher thought he was a deer?”
“If that’s the case you might consider wearing blaze orange on your little hikes,” he suggested.
He gave me a look that suggested he thought I knew more than I was letting on.
“I’ll keep my eyes open, Sheriff,” I said. “I’ll let you know if I see anything out of the ordinary.”
“You do that,” he said. “Cooperate with my detectives when they get here. If you think of any details you may have left out, pass on that information to them.”
“Will do.”
“Nothing else I can accomplish here,” he said. “But before I leave tell me why the FBI is here.”
“Brody was an agent at one time,” I said. “I was a suspect in my prior life.”
“Tax evasion and embezzlement,” he said. “Also a person of interest in a shooting in the Bahamas.”
“I was cleared of that,” I said. “Paid my debt on the rest of it.”
“A man with a record like yours finds a body on his property,” he said. “You can see why we might be curious.”
“Brody and I have a history with the Bureau,” I said. “They owed us a debt. Far as I’m concerned they’ve paid it, but I guess they’re keeping tabs on us as a result.”
“The FBI owed you?”
“Long story, Sheriff,” I said. “Has nothing to do with whoever killed Pop Sutton.”
“It does when I’ve got the damned Deputy Director of the FBI breathing down my neck.”
“I don’t want him here either,” I said. “Trust me. I never wanted to see any of those G-men again.”
“I suggest you satisfy his curiosity so he can go back to Washington,” he said.
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
“Have a good afternoon,” he said. “Wait for the detectives and give them your cooperation.”
He left and I went back to talk to Brody. She was pacing the cabin floor, chewing on her nails.
“I’ve got half a mind to pack our bags and disappear,” she said. “But I really love this place. Tell me it’s going to be okay.”
“It’ll work out,” I said. “Shit always works out.”
“I’d like to know how you’re going to get us out of this mess,” she said.
“I’m going to find the killer,” I said. “Take his picture. Hand feed evidence to our new friend the Sheriff, who doesn’t seem much interested in solving the crime.”
“Bowdich will pressure him,” she said. “At least until he’s sure we’re innocent.”
“We are innocent,” I said.
“But you boogered up the crime scene,” she said. “You tampered with
evidence. Why did you have to do that?”
“We’ve been through this already,” I said. “What’s done is done. I’ll make it right. I’ll find the killer.”
“When this is done you’re going to sit right here and whittle doodads,” she said. “No more missions. No more anything resembling trouble.”
“Every time I promise that, the promise gets broken,” I admitted. “I’m sorry for that, but…”
“But hell,” she said. “Seriously, Breeze. We came here to put all the drama behind us.”
“Our one and only squatting, homeless, hillbilly pot grower is deceased,” I said. “I’m sure things will stay quiet once this is over. I mean, how much trouble can I get into up here?”
“I would have thought the same thing about living off-grid on a boat,” she said. “But that didn’t stop you.”
“The number one reason I gave that up was to make you happy,” I said. “That continues to be my purpose in life.”
“Come here, you rogue,” she said.
We had excitement of the wrong kind in our mountain hideaway, but it excited Brody in the right way. She pulled me into the bedroom and hurriedly undressed me.
“The detectives could be here any minute,” I said.
“Then you best get a move on, mountain man.”
I wasn’t the type to object to this type of order from a pretty woman. It was quick but electric. Our current predicament was translated into a sexual energy that had to be satisfied. My newfound physicality made me feel more virile. I wasn’t gentle this time. I was in charge. She asked for it and I gave it to her, good and hard. We lay there, spent, until we heard the sound of tires on gravel. The detectives had arrived.
I pulled my pants on and tried to button my shirt as I moved to answer the door. I figured it was obvious to the two men what I’d been up to. My face felt a little flushed as we exchanged introductions. Detective Ellis was accompanied by a technician, complete with camera and evidence collection kit. I closed the door behind me, giving Brody a chance to compose herself.
“I found him up there,” I said, pointing to the clearing just up the hill. “I assume Watts filled you in.”
“We’re here to look for the needle in the haystack,” Ellis said. “Have you been up there contaminating the site?”
“I just took the Sheriff up there,” I said. “We didn’t really poke around. Nothing much to see.”
“Would have been better if we could have gotten here soon after you called it in,” he said. “But that’s police work in a rural area.”
“I’ll direct you to where I found the deceased,” I said.
I walked up the hill once again, barefoot with a detective and technician in tow. They took a few pictures and stood there looking around.
“This is it?” asked Ellis. “Should be a lot more blood. There are no footprints, not even from the victim. Looks scrubbed.”
“Don’t ask me,” I said. “This is exactly how I found it.”
“I’m guessing the killer dropped the body here,” he said. “Cleaned up afterward. This isn’t the original crime scene.”
“You’re welcome to wander around the mountain,” I said. “Lots of ground to cover on rugged terrain.”
“Not really my specialty,” he said. “I could ask for someone to consult, but I doubt my request would be granted.”
“You mean like a hiking guide or something?”
“Bunch of them around,” he said. “But civilians on the case brings up all sorts of chain of custody problems. If the victim was someone known to the local community you’d get a lot more attention.”
“I got that impression from the Sheriff,” I said. “So this is it? That’s all you’re going to do?”
“We simply don’t have the time or manpower to do a forensic search of an entire mountain,” he said. “It’s an impossible undertaking.”
“It’s my mountain,” I said. “I’ll search the son of a bitch.”
“I can’t stop you,” he said. “But if you find anything, you can’t touch it. Call us and point it out. We’ll take it from there if it indicates the real scene. In addition, one man is already dead. Keep that in mind.”
“I’m well aware,” I said. “I found his body on my property, remember?”
“I’m just trying to tell you to be careful,” he said. “It may be your mountain, but someone’s been up here with a high-powered rifle. Maybe this killing was just for killing’s sake.”
I knew better. Pop was killed for his marijuana crop. I knew where it was. I knew someone would come for it. That someone was the killer. Of this, I had no doubt. I walked the good-for-nothing detective and his tech back down to their car. He gave me his card and asked me to call him if anything else developed. I didn’t bother telling him that I had no phone. I supposed I shouldn’t have expected any different reaction from law enforcement. No one cared about a man named Pop Sutton, except for me.
Five
Bowdich was back to bother us the following day. He wanted to talk without the Sheriff around. He was cordial and gentlemanly towards Brody, but I was certain he eyed me with disdain. He had sized me up and judged me unworthy. When he first knew her, she was an upstanding civil servant, dedicated to her job as a law enforcement officer. Since she’d met me, she’d turned her back on the FBI and walked a fine line between law-abiding and criminal. He blamed me for corrupting her.
“Listen, David,” I said. “Brody absolutely had no part in this. She wasn’t with me when I found the victim. She hasn’t even been up the mountain. I don’t care what you think of me, but she’s not to be considered a suspect of any wrongdoing here. Let’s get that straight right now.”
“I don’t know what happened here,” he said. “But you know more than what you told the Sheriff. You have a history of entanglements where you’ve been loose with the law. Possession of marijuana with intent to distribute for example.”
“I got probation,” I said. “Worked it off.”
“The shooting of a lawyer in the Bahamas,” he said. “Whom you’d been previously involved with romantically.”
He threw that in for Brody’s benefit. It was an episode in my life she knew little about. When we first got together, we’d decided not to delve into each other’s past relationships. Brody eyed me suspiciously.
“I was a person of interest only,” I countered. “I was completely cleared of any connection to her death.”
“But you were the one who found her body,” he said. “Just like now. I guess you have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“She wasn’t a body,” I said. “She was alive. My actions saved her life, thank you very much.”
“It is my belief that you know what happened that day,” he said. “And that the truth hasn’t been told.”
“Your belief doesn’t match the facts,” I said. “I was exonerated.”
“Now we have another body,” he continued. “Shot through with a high caliber rifle round. Very little blood. No footprints. Scrubbed scene for a body drop, which just happened to be in your backyard.”
“Maybe one of your Bureau buddies is trying to set me up,” I suggested. “Settle an old score. Your people have come after me more than once and haven’t gotten me for squat. Now you’re offended that Brody chose me over your little G-man club. Exactly why are you here Bowdich?”
“You two want to just put your dicks here on the table?” asked Brody. “I’ll get a ruler.”
I saw her give him a look. Some non-verbal message was passed between them. She was good at that, but I thought I was the only one who could interpret them.
“Two things,” said Bowdich. “Brody and I were a couple once. That explains my personal interest in her welfare.”
“Her welfare is my responsibility now,” I told him. “We’re trying to make a new life here. We love each other. All we want is to be left alone, especially by the FBI.”
“Here’s the rest of the deal,” he began. “We scrubb
ed any record of you two shooting that operator in Florida. We overrode local law enforcement and made it all disappear. We had no choice. We were responsible for him coming after you. However, if it got out that you killed again after we’d covered for you, it would be a disaster for the Bureau. We have a significant amount of liability here.”
“We didn’t kill anybody,” I said. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“But you know something you’re not telling,” he said. “I didn’t get here by being naïve. Something went down here. Something happened that you either witnessed or are withholding evidence of.”
It was my turn to get the look from Brody. She was influencing our conversation while barely speaking. She was telling me to be honest with him. I gave her a look back that said are you sure? She nodded in the affirmative. I had to trust her instincts. She knew this man well. I gave him the truth.
“Pop was growing weed high up the mountain,” I began. “We were friends. I’d go up and visit with him a few times a week, even help tend to his crop. He taught me some things. I got him a fly rod and taught him to catch fish. He lived up there someplace. He never showed me where.”
“Where did you find the body, Breeze?” he asked.
“At his pot farm,” I said. “I didn’t want the world to know what he was doing, but I want to use the weed to catch his killer. They’ll come back for it.”
“Why didn’t you just call the local cops?” he asked. “Why’d you move him?”
“From what I see of the Sheriff’s Department, they’d never make it up the mountain,” I said. “If I left him to call for help, a bear or a big cat would rip him to shreds. I’d left footprints and maybe even fingerprints all over the place over the last few weeks. I figured I’d be implicated immediately.”
“How do you figure you’ll catch his killer?” he said. “Do you intend to stake out the scene twenty-four hours a day?”
“Obviously I can’t do that,” I said. “But Pop was one with the mountain. He was a stealthy mover. He’d been living there for years and no one knew. Whoever took him out had to be pretty good with his tactics. A rifle has a long range, but Pop would have seen them coming for a long way, or smelled them. He would have sensed they were on the mountain. The killer is a hunter or ex-military with extreme knowledge. He’s also in the pot trade, or wants to be.”