Chapter 41
“Franklin Barrett?” Oscar asked. “How did Franklin Barrett enter this chat we are having? Did I miss something?”
Ashe took a breath and relayed his theories to his old friends. As they went front only thoughts to spoken words, he realized exactly how thin and possibly paranoid they might actually be. “Does that sound crazy?” he asked. “I know it probably does, but my gut is telling me otherwise. Alarms are going off and I can’t ignore them.”
Oscar thought it over.
“No black and gold container found that I am aware of,” he said. “But we were unable to strip the whole mansion. Damn higher authorities forced me to use kid’s gloves with that family. And then the bastard confessed which stalled the search for any further evidence.” He shut his eyes. “Could it have been there? Did we stop before we found it? I don’t know. Anything is possible.”
“It fits the organized crime aspect of the scenario,” Ginger stated with a scratch of his red beard. “The Barrett family is a known member of the crime syndicate of northeast Ohio, even if it is not proven. That doesn’t make them special, just a big fish in a little, dried up ocean.”
“There is more than the organized crime aspect going on here,” Ashe told the two men. “Think about it for a minute. Look at each crime through the eyes of the symptoms of the mystery pill. Paranoia and aggression…mainly. Sometimes paranoia can be the main causation of aggression, the one leading to the other. That paranoia can be all encompassing, taking over your mind as you try to live a daily life. It grows and grows until there is nothing left.” He paused for second to collect his thoughts. “When someone is paranoid, they feel threatened, and in extreme causes, like those involved in severe schizophrenia, it is by unknown or unidentified powers or groups, like a secret government that is listening to their thoughts. But sometimes the paranoid can be localized, focusing on a single thing or person or group. It can also be based in reality…to a point. It can also be justified on occasion. Just because you are paranoid, doesn’t mean that someone isn’t after you. You know the saying.”
“Very well,” Oscar replied.
“Everyone at this table has been a member of the Justified Paranoid Club, at a point or another,” Ginger said. He then nodded his head sideways toward Oscar, “And some of us are lifelong members.”
Oscar glanced at Ginger. “It keeps me young and agile.” He joked.
They all chuckled.
“We both know that paranoia played a part in the Barrett slayings,” Ashe continued. “He confessed to that much.”
“True,” Oscar agreed. “He told us that he believed that his wife and son were plotting his own death. They wanted his money. Guess they were going to make it look like an accident, I would assume. But I’m not sure if he went into that much detail about the plot. But they would have had to do it that way, though, in order to get his life insurance and the estates, as long as his will was set up in their favor. Don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”
“Right,” Ashe said. “However, you said that no evidence of a murder plot was ever uncovered.”
“No evidence was uncovered,” Oscar replied. “But, again, my hands were tied with red tape. I searched a little, though, even after the guilty plea was announced. Never found a crumb of a trail.”
“Would it have changed a thing?” Ginger asked Oscar.
“I don’t know,” Oscar said. “Maybe. Probably not.”
“Whether true or not,” Ashe continued. “I have a feeling that the fear existed in the back of Barrett’s mind, even slightly. Barrett is a snake in a family of sharp clawed raptors. He probably feared his own family as much as the police that consistently investigated his family. He got that pill…and then the paranoia sprouted into full bloom and took on a real picture. He was sure that his wife and son were plotting against him. And he reacted in the only way he thought that he could.”
“Okay,” Oscar said. “But we have no black and gold container to link Barrett to the other three events or to your son.”
“It was there,” Ashe was sure. “Who has the house now?”
“It was passed to another member of the family,” Oscar answered. “But I’m not sure. Whoever it was refuses to live there. It has been closed up like a tomb. Or a sick memorial to the dead.”
“It might still be there,” Ashe said. And then changed subjects. “Charlie Parker. The hired gun for the Picante family boss. He worked for a dangerous and ruthless family and was present during the most secretive meetings. He knew things that he should have never be invited to know. People like that have an expiration date. And they have to know it. In the back of their minds, they have to wonder if the next meeting would be where they will be killed and buried in cement, disappeared from the earth. We both know Charlie Parker thought about that final moment, maybe even obsessively. Add a paranoid inducing mystery pill…and blam. A dead family.”
“What about Mathew Windham?” Ginger asked, itching the bottom of his red haired chin.
“I would have to stretch this one a little bit,” Ashe continued, “but not to any lengths that would make it an improbable possibility.” He paused for a couple breaths. “I hadn’t known
Tommy-on-the-take personally. Had either of you?”
Oscar nodded. He explained. “Wasn’t a nice guy…or cop. Angry. Arrogant. Crooked. But he had walked the line close enough to keep from getting caught. He also worked with help from his criminal friends.”
“Had he been violent? Confrontational?”
“On a dime,” Oscar replied. “Not too long before his death, he had wanted to transfer into my crew, but I told the captain that I had enough dead bodies on my hands to add more to the mix.”
“Did you ever get to see him interact with Mathew?” Ashe asked.
Oscar considered the question. “No…not at all. Not too many of the other officers had even been aware that he had had a son, until it all went down and Tommy ended up bludgeoned by him.”
“Could Mathew have been afraid of his old man?”
“I was afraid of his old man,” Ginger said. “He didn’t like me none. No way, sir.”
“Maybe the kid was abused, physically or mentally,” Ashe stated. “That could cause a teen to be afraid for their life…on a daily basis. Add an overdose of paranoia and you got a battered child killing his abuser.”
Oscar grunted. “Thin.”
“I said it would be,” Ashe said.
“But I can look into it,” Oscar concluded.
“Did you get any information from the wife?” Ashe asked. “Did she mention anything about abuse…or any other motive?”
“She wouldn’t talk to us,” Oscar replied. “She doesn’t trust the police. And I don’t blame her.”
“Me either, to be honest,” Ashe replied. “What about the church shooting? I don’t know the relationship between the Cool brothers and Victor Ortiz,” He continued. “Can’t even explain how little I know.”
“The Cool brothers are not nice guys,” Oscar informed Ashe. “Even if they do go to the same church each and every Sunday. And Victor Ortiz was the same kind of guy…a God fearing criminal type. They would want to kill each other simply because of their natures. But you don’t believe that?”
“Not at all,” Ashe replied. “And you don’t either.”
“Can’t say that I do,” Oscar said. “Especially with that little fucking container involved.”
“Could be as simple as competition between bad guys?” Ashe wondered.
Oscar grew quiet. “We considered that possibility. It was most likely the motive for the shootings. Ortiz was putting his claim in the gun running domain, which was ruled by the Cool brothers. Ortiz tried to kill his competition. Or he wanted to kill them before they could erase their competition. But when we pulled that containers and the pill from him…we weren’t so sure. What are the
odds? It muddied a clear pond.”
“Maybe not,” Ashe responded. “It might be just that simple. The Cool brothers would not let some small name guy like Victor Ortiz take money from their pockets. They would strike against Victor…eventually. He had no choice but to strike first. But he also had the mystery pill on him, so we can also add amphetamine induced paranoia to his state of mind. It drove him to overreact out of pure and primal desperation. He knew the brothers would be at the church come Sunday morning, sitting proud in the back pews where they always sat, and he would take whatever chance he could to get at them. In his mind, time might have been ticking down to nothing. He had to act, quickly.”
“Damn sloppy,” Oscar groaned.
“Paranoia knows no logic,” Ashe replied.
“I missed you, my friend” Ginger proclaimed, causing Ashe to smile.
“What about Scott?” Oscar asked, his face still stern, even after Ginger declaration of love to Ashe. “This is the container from his bedroom. How does he play into all of this is? I don’t see any organized crime connection when dealing with him. Is there?”
“No,” Ashe said. This conversation was giving him the details that he needed to get to the bottom of Scott’s mess. He felt the connections being made and the links being discovered. He was close to the truth. He could feel it in the shadows, just beyond his sight. And the more he spoke the more he seemed to understand. “But there is a paranoia aspect,” he continued. “I talked to Scott’s good friend Regime along with Scott’s basketball coach. I know that you did, too. Did they mention the quarrels between Scott and Owen prior to the shooting?”
Oscar nodded.
Ashe continued, “As you know, Owen had come home one night wasted on something to the point he didn’t know what he was doing. He hadn’t even recognize his own roommate. He had believed Scott to be an intruder. Scott had been able to calm him down that time, but it must have happened a different time, causing them to fight. Owen must have scared Scott. I know I would have been worried about what Owen was capable of when he was in one of those episodes, especially given the knowledge that Owen had been involved in prior violent episodes while on drugs. Something that Scott was aware of. One of those times Owen might mistake Scott for an intruder again and attack him, try to kill him.”
“The pill would turn that fear” Oscar began, “into something more. He would see it, as the rest might have seen it…to be self-defense.”
“Kill or be killed,” Ginger added. “One the most basic impulses when being cornered.”
“But why is he still on the run?” Oscar asked.
“Scott called me,” Ashe said, putting that piece of information on the table. “And there is something wrong with him, outside of just paranoia. He is on a mission, Oscar. And he is driven by something that I am not sure of yet.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“That his eyes have been opened,” Ashe said. “It was the same thing that Franklin Barrett said to me about his own crime.”
“What do you think it means?” Oscar asked.
“I think he believed he saw something,” Ashe answered. “That is why I put hallucinations as another possible symptom of that pill. But I can’t be sure…yet.”
“What did he see?”
“I don’t know.”
“You two are making really good points,” Ginger interrupted. “But one question has been far from answered, my friends.” Ashe and Oscar both looked at the red haired lab rat. “Where did the pill come from? And why have only these people been given it?”
Ashe closed his eyes and tilted his head. “I have no idea.”
Oscar grunted.
Silence swept over them, but was immediately broken by the sudden ringing of a cell phone. The ring tone was in Spanish and Oscar was the only one to reach for his phone. “Detective Harrison.” No more words followed. Oscar only listened, his face frozen in a tight expression.
It was not good news.
What had Scott done?
“Yes, sir,” Oscar said. “I’m on my way there, sir. Thank you, sir.” He hit a button and ended the call. “Ginger. I want you to head back to the lab. You’ve been away from there long enough. I’m sure you have a ton of work to get to. I want you to put your own eyes on and through the evidence pulled from Scott’s room. Ashe. Leave your car here, you are coming with me. We have another crime scene.”
“Scott?”
“Yep,” Oscar replied.
“How do you know for sure?” Ashe asked.
“He left a bleeding man and a whole lot of witnesses behind,” Oscar explained. “And this time he took someone with him…at gunpoint.”
“A hostage?”
“More like a prisoner,” Oscar replied. “He is now a kidnapper, too.”
“Shit!” Ashe exclaimed.
“Did I tell you to get back to your lab,” Oscar ordered Ginger. “Vamonos.”
“You’re taking me with you?” Ashe inquired, making sure he had heard his old friend correctly.
“Yes,” Oscar clarified. “We are together on this from here on out.”
The psychologist nodded agreement.
“I’ll take care of the check,” Oscar told them. “Let’s hurry. I have a feeling it might start raining again.
“Where are we going?” Ashe asked.
“Cleveland.”
“Great.”
Chapter 42
The yellow man sat up straight and true and spoke. “Good day, Amber. I’m glad to see you are well. And that you are putting your grandmother’s old house to good use.” The smirk never left his lips. “Didn’t know you had a boyfriend. But it is not like we talk anymore. Good to see you again, honey. It has been too long.”
“Not long enough…dad.”
PART THREE
“Hell begins on the day when God grants us a clear vision of all that we might have achieved, of all the gifts which we have wasted, of all that we might have done which we did not do”
--Gian Carlo Menotti
Ashes to Ashes Page 42