He slipped a heavy blue sweater over his shirt, grabbed his shoulder holster, and slipped it on. Not that he needed it. He didn’t expect to confront gun-toting criminals on this wintry day, but it had become a habit to carry the Glock nestled securely under his arm. He swallowed the last bit of a sausage and egg croissant and headed for his car.
When Clay woke, the temperature was fifteen degrees. As he pulled into Barton’s narrow driveway, the green digital numbers on the dashboard indicated it was ten degrees warmer. April had buzzed him on the way over. He answered the phone and heard her perky voice. The lady was wide awake in the morning. He mentioned it took him two cups of coffee and exercising to get wide awake. He heard the laughter over the phone.
“I’m usually alert when my feet hit the floor. I’m ready to rush out and face the day.”
“When I go out to face the day, I have the speed of a turtle on tranquilizers,” he said.
Clay opened the car door and heard anguished cries from the dogs. Fear gripped him in a tight grasp, squeezing air from his lungs.
“April gotta go. Something is wrong here!”
He started running, slipping once on the wet sidewalk. Thoughts flashed through his brain, and terror shot in his soul. Jerry has bad luck. Not again. Not again! He raced to the door and yanked it open.
Captain sat on one side of the body, head back. Deep mournful barks came from him. His eyes had moistened as if the gold and brown four-footed companion was crying for Barton. The anguished howls echoed back from the walls. Baxter ran to and fro. He’d leap onto Barton’s legs or stomach then leap back onto the floor. Baxter’s yelps were high-pitched but sorrowful. He barked frantically for his companion to get up.
But Barton was not going to.
His body was stretched out next to the coffee table. A strange, almost placid look showed on the still face as if he was not surprised at more ill fortune. As if he had accepted death seconds before the two bullets smashed into his chest, with reluctance but with a degree of resignation.
Fresh blood, as noted by a few writers, has a metallic smell, an impersonal scent. But it was not impersonal for Clay. He almost staggered as he approached the body. He knew instinctively Barton was dead. A circle of blood covered his chest near the heart, and he wasn’t breathing.
Quickly, he looked around. There was no one in the house. No noise. No movement. He looked back at the body of his acquaintance and sighed. A raspy, guttural voice came from his mouth.
“I’m sorry, Jerry. Sorry for this. Sorry that fate treated you so badly…I’ll find him, my friend, whoever did this. I’ll find him. And I’ll kill him.”
Clay realized he repeated “I’ll find him” several, perhaps dozens of times before, he reached for his smartphone.
He patted the dogs until he heard tires squealing as a car roared above the speed limit—and turned into the garage lane. April bolted from the car. Ignoring the slippery walk, she ran to the front door. Although Clay tried to block her view, she caught a glimpse of Barton’s body on the floor and gasped.
Clay put his hands on her shoulders. “There’s nothing we can do. He’s dead.”
“Who…. what happened?”
“I don’t know. But he was killed, murdered.”
4
Both the police and the EMTs were efficient, professional, and remarkably kind. They lifted the body, put it on the stretcher, and rolled it toward the ambulance. The men treated Barton with respect, lifting him gently. They carried a dignified silence with them as they put him into the ambulance. Clay petted the dogs and tried to comfort them. He led them outside and closed the door so they wouldn’t interfere with the EMTs. He expected howls, but the two merely eased into the thin layer of snow and lay down.
Clay spoke into the air.
“I know you loved them, Jerry. I’ll take care of them. I promise,” he said.
Captain Jack Wolfson of the Sea Oak Police Department wore plain clothes. He flipped open his wallet and showed the silver badge to April and Clay.
“Are you the man who found the body and called 911?” he asked.
Clay nodded.
“I need to ask you a few questions.”
Clay nodded again.
“Are you a friend of the dead man?”
He nodded for the third time. Although to be perfectly truthful, Clay thought, only a half nod was needed. An acquaintance nod.
“His name is Jerry Barton?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you come over to his house at seven in the morning?”
“Jerry had spent a long weekend over on the Outer Banks. He needed someone to take care of his pets. For the past three days, I’ve been coming over to feed and walk them. I came over to return his keys.”
“And you, ma’am? What is your reason for being here?”
“I…I was talking with Clay on the phone when he arrived. He yelled something was wrong and hung up. I rushed over. Jerry was our classmate at Sea Oak High. We bumped into him again a few days ago.”
“And your name is?”
“April Longmont. I’m a reporter with the Daily-News.”
Wolfson shifted his gaze to Clay. “Did you know him well?
“Can’t say that I did. Jerry and I were in the same high school class here in Sea Oak. We kept in contact. I can’t say we were friends, but we’d bump into each other now and again. Played golf with him a couple of times over the years. But we were not good friends, just…just acquaintances.”
“Even if you were only an acquaintance, can you think of anyone who would want to kill Mr Barton?”
“No, I don’t think Jerry had any enemies, certainly no one who would want to murder him. He was just an average guy struggling to make a living…just an average guy.”
Wolfson nodded.
“You know of any other friends or acquaintances that I could talk to?”
The raspy gritty tone sounded uncertain.
“That’s the thing, Captain. Jerry was a loner. He didn’t have many friends. He had an ex-wife whose name was Barbara, but I think they divorced almost six years ago. I don’t know where she is. Don’t remember her maiden name. Don’t know if she’s still in town. He… Jerry did have a cousin in town, but I don’t… Jerry mentioned the man’s name once to me, but right now I can’t think of it.”
Wolfson frowned. “Jerry Barton. For some reason, the name rings a very faint bell with me. Was he ever arrested?”
Clay shook his head. “Jerry? Not possible. He was a quiet man and not into anything illegal. There are no dark secrets in Jerry’s life. He didn’t have time for much else except making a living. At one time, he worked two or three jobs to pay off his debts and buy food.”
The captain raised his eyebrows. “Mr Barton was in financial trouble?”
“Not so much anymore. But he was one of the people who got burned in the Golden Sands fiasco. I thought about investing too but pulled back at the last minute due to other commitments. I had a drink with Jerry about the time he invested. A lot of people were optimistic about the project, and he was one of them. He borrowed heavily to invest, and when it went under, he was badly in debt. That’s why he worked two and three jobs. Golden Sands was being run by one of our high school teachers, Jack Radcliff. He was a PE teacher but just got in over his head.”
“I remember the case. Some charges were made against Radcliff, but I believe the state attorney concluded the financial failure of the project was due to honest mistakes, not malice or fraud.”
“Yes, I never thought Radcliff intentionally deceived anyone or juggled the figures. It wasn’t all his fault. Among other things, a gale hit the area when they were renovating the building and caused incredible damage. I think the storm cost investors more than a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. They never really recovered. When everything was said and done, and the bankruptcy papers filed, Jerry got back about two cents on the dollar.”
Wolfson grunted. “That’s a reason to murder, not to be murdered.” He gl
anced at April. “Can you add anything to that, ma’am?”
“No, I didn’t know Jerry well at all. To be honest, the first time I saw him since high school was a couple of days ago when we offered to take care of his dogs. I knew something about the Golden Sands scandal. I had two friends who lost money in that. Jerry was one of those students who were non-entities in high school. He was smart, he was in the National Honor Society but kept to himself. Very socially awkward.”
Wolfson’s fingers punched a few keys on his computer. He sat silently for a moment as he looked at the screen, grunting once or twice.
“That’s what I thought. Jerry Barton was on the periphery of the construction scandal in the county about seven, eight years ago.”
“Construction scandal?” April asked.
“Yes, the region went through a boom. Economy roared, people moved in, and we had construction and building booms. But some companies and a few of the unions tried to cut corners. In an economy like that, there are huge amounts of money to be made, but a few people always get greedy.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a red box of cigarillos. He pulled one from its plastic cover and stuck the tip in his mouth. “Hope you don’t mind if I smoke.”
Both shook their heads.
“I’ve quit about ten times. Sad part is I’ve started again eleven times.”
“What was the scandal about, Captain?” Clay asked.
Wolfson blew out gray smoke. A scent of menthol flowed into the room. He shrugged. “Typical things—payoffs, bribes, using shoddy, less-than-standard materials, cutting the cost of the project while paying inspectors to look the other way.”
“Jerry wouldn’t do that. He was an honest man,” Clay said.
Wolfson shook his head. “He wasn’t involved in the corruption. If I recall he did some type of support job with some company. He wasn’t involved in the actual construction, but he and another guy were in the wrong place at the wrong time and witnessed a payoff. I forget if it was a union or company official that didn’t trust computers. No electronic transfers. He wanted his bribe the old-fashioned way. Stuffed in a bag or envelope. Not traceable. Barton and another guy told the truth to investigators and to the grand jury. They didn’t testify in court because the district attorney got guilty pleas. But there were a lot of bitter, angry feelings in both union and management camps. Word went out, and for a long time the witnesses who helped us couldn’t get any type of construction job in the region.”
April raised her eyebrows. “If a number of men went to prison, do you know if they’ve gotten out recently?”
“You’re sharp on the uptake, Ms Longmont. I was thinking along that line myself. If I recall, the sentences ran about ten years. With good behavior, those defendants might have been released recently. But I don’t know if they have a lethal grudge.”
He puffed on his cigar again. “But I will find out,” he said.
Clay snapped his fingers. “Wade Edmunds. That’s the cousin. Name just came to me.”
Wolfson jotted down the name, excused himself, and walked off to talk to a uniformed officer. April sighed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to know Jerry better. I should have. You did,” she said. She squeezed Clay's hand.
“I could have done more.” He glanced again at the bookshelves.
“He read a lot. I guessed he loved the dogs and his books. And they didn’t shun him.” His voice hardened. “April, I’m going to find the man who did this and make him pay.”
“I will help you,” she said. “You’ll need to expand your company, Clay. It’s now the Augustine-Longmont Agency, and Jerry is our first case.”
Next morning, standing on the doorstep of the small residence, April checked herself over. Orange blouse, dark skirt, shiny brown vest. Shiny long hair flowing below her shoulders. Pen and reporter’s notebook in hand. Orange-tinted shades. If she didn’t look professional, then no one looked professional, she decided. She rang the doorbell. A good-sized man with black sleeked-back hair and a wide smile opened the door.
“Mr Edmunds?”
“Yes, I’m Wade Edmunds.”
“I’m the woman who called you. April Longmont with the Sea Oak Daily News.”
“Come in.” He flashed a smile.
She entered the living room and eased down onto a sofa. A coffee table with several books, a coffee cup, and the morning edition of the Daily News was on it. Edmunds sat down and crossed his legs.
“You are doing a story on Jerry?”
“I wouldn’t call it a story, not yet. I’ll be upfront. A detective named Clay Augustine is investigating your cousin’s murder. Clay found the body. He didn’t know Jerry well, but he has sworn to find the killer. I’m helping him. We’re trying to backtrack in Jerry’s life to see if there’s any clue about who killed him.”
Edmunds picked up the coffee cup and sipped. “I was shocked at his death. I can’t imagine anyone who would kill him, and I can’t imagine any motive. I wonder if the shooting was random.”
“That’s one possibility we have to keep in mind. But Clay and I believe your cousin was a specific target. We just don’t know why.”
Edmunds held up the cup. “I’m sorry. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? I have orange juice. Don’t have anything stronger. I don’t drink.”
“No, thank you. I’m fine. But Clay and I don’t know where to begin. So, we wanted to find someone who could tell us about Jerry’s life.”
“That’s not much to tell. My cousin lived an average life. He had a little bad luck, but that was the only distinctive thing in his life. I’m his cousin, and we grew up together, but we were not all that close. We were not like brothers or anything like that. The toughest thing to hit Jerry was when the investment project of the Golden Sands Health Club went bust. He not only lost money; the financial strains wrecked his marriage. Teela, his wife, invested some of her own money in the project and carried some resentment that Jerry recommended the project. He had inherited a little money after his mother died; she was an obnoxious woman if there ever was one. She got sick toward the end of her life, slipped and hurt her back, then fell again about two months later. She was almost bedridden. She owned the house and, if I recall, they took out one of those reverse mortgage things, but I’m unsure of the details.” He smiled. “I remember Jerry saying one time that his mother would live long enough to exhaust all their funds and then die. We both laughed. Sounds bitter but he was right. It would have been like her to hold on until the bank account was empty. She was an odd woman and…” He shook his head. “Sorry, got off track. I didn’t like his mother, and my mother didn’t like Jerry’s mom either. Anyway, when she passed there was a little money left; money Jerry used as the investment into Golden Sands. He said you can’t make anything on a nine-to-five job. You need to have your money working for you. I’m sure that’s true, but he picked the wrong company.”
“Do you know how much he invested?”
“I think around ten or twelve thousand. Every cent he and Teela had in savings, and more.”
“The bankruptcy destroyed the marriage?’
“Yes. I think they were having trouble before that, but the finances split them apart. Jerry had borrowed some money for the investment. Teela told him to tell creditors to take the loss. Everyone else connected to Golden Sands had to. He said no. If an honest man borrows money, he pays it back, Jerry said. He was also determined to pay back Teela for her funds lost in the project. And he did. He worked multiple jobs, but he paid back every cent. I was at his apartment after he paid the final payment to his ex-wife. He was pouring himself a drink. He liked high-quality bourbon. He hadn’t bought any in a long time because he saved every dollar. I asked what the occasion was. He said he has made the last payment to Teela. Paid her back every cent of her two thousand investment.”
“Where was he working?” April said.
Edmunds chuckled. “I don’t mean to make light of his troubles, but Jerry was at a job that he never dreame
d he would hold. He was selling jewelry. The store was called Nadine’s and was located in the Ocean Wave Mall, rather upscale. The business was looking for salesmen and women, and he applied and was accepted. He made pretty good money. At times, the business gave bonuses and percentages to their employees. Jerry told me that one week he made his salary and more in bonuses. Sales were not always that good, but for at least one week he did well. He did some watchman work at night, and covered a few high school baseball games for the Daily News when the paper needed stringers.”
April thought for a moment and tapped her cheek with the pen. “Do you know where he did his night watchman work?”
Edmunds swirled the coffee in his cup. “Let’s see…. think he mentioned that once…oh, Coltran-Nash.”
“The big financial company?”
“Yes. Jerry said it was a great company to watch. Central air, walking on carpets instead of concrete, bathrooms on every floor, and a few rooms where he could stretch out on sofas and catch some sleep.”
“He’d work there only at nights?”
“He did some day work. The board must have had a trace of paranoia. They liked having security people day and night, although the security people were not armed. But they could have let Jerry have a gun. He was a southern guy; he knew how to shoot. I mean, he was a dork and wasn’t an athlete, but he could aim a gun. He wasn’t a bad shot. The company paid well too. Most security work is about minimum wage, but I think he got $15 or more an hour on the job. And he liked the security job. They must have had odd hours at the place. He played chess with one of the associates, a guy named Chance. The game might take days or weeks, but I guess neither one minded. Chance would come in often at night and do some work. It was quiet and more conducive to thinking. He and Jerry would chat at night. I think Jerry actually looked forward to going in. Or at least he didn’t think it was drudgery.”
A Sea Oak Mystery Boxed Set Page 13