by Jay Heavner
“Some criminals don’t think so, Bill”
“I know. The thin blue line is streaked with the red blood of many fallen law officers.”
“Guess you did save the county the cost of a trial.” “Wasn’t trying to,” Bill said. “Just trying to save myself. Still, if it had gone to trial and he was found guilty and then sentenced to death, it could be decades before he’d be executed with all the appeals his lawyers and the bleeding hearts would throw up as roadblocks.”
“Don’t seem fair.”
“It’s not. Justice delayed is justice denied.”
“How many victims do they think he had?” Roger said.
“They’re not sure. The nipple necklace he wore had eight nipples on it. At this time, we have to assume he only took one nipple from each woman he killed, not two, but there may have been others where he didn’t take a souvenir. We may never know. The nipple in the center of the necklace did have a ring in it. The coroner’s doing the best he can to see if it was Missy’s. There’s been a lot of pretty decomposed Jan Does found in the last few years. Some of them could have been his victims too. We may never know how many. Roger, that sick puppy could have had yours on the string, you know?”
“I do. Glad it’s not. Who do you think called in the anonymous tip, Bill?”
“I wish I knew. Seems like you’ve got a guardian angel out there somewhere. If I were you, I’d not be pressing my luck on issues of this nature in the future.”
“Bill, you know me.”
“I do. That’s why I’m giving you this advice you’ll probably ignore.” “Thanks, anyway.”
“When did you figure out it wasn’t me who killed Missy?” Bill said.
“I had my doubts from the very beginning. I didn’t think you had it in you, but stranger things have happened. I had to keep an open mind, and I also had to keep you guessing and see what you’d do. Thanks for not disappointing me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What was the clincher?” Bill asked.
“The really odd thing about this whole crime was how the perp left the victim’s clothing neatly piled and folded at the scene of the crime. I’m sorry Bill, but you’re nowhere close to a neatness nut. You live like a pig. You’d be living in your own filth if not for your housekeeper.”
“You don’t have to be so hard on me and make it sound so bad, even if it did eliminate me as a suspect. You could be kinder, Mr. College Professor. I know you know how to do that.”
Roger gave Bill a dirty look. “Okay, how about this. Bill, your domicile is noteworthy. It far exceeded normally accept standards dealing with lack of cleanliness. You could give professional and convincing lessons to Oscar on the Odd Couple TV show on extreme messiness. You’re in the top 1% in the kingdom of Bedraggled. Now does that make you feel any better, ole buddy?”
Awe showed on Bill’s face, and then he smiled. “I think I’ve been insulted.” “Dazzle them with brilliance or baffle them with BS. Maybe a little of both.”
Bill said, “Sounds good to me as long as this cloud of suspicion no longer hangs over my head. Any ideas on what’s you’re gonna do now that this case is winding up? Word I hear is the powers what be would like you to stay around and help.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Been rather introspective. I sure miss my wife and kid. They’re gone and not coming back. Some lady company might be nice.”
Bill nodded, but said nothing, however his eyes said for Roger to go on. “I was wondering about going back to teaching at a college, but I’m not sure I want to. Not sure I could find a place where I would feel wanted and welcomed anymore. I’m too much of a real free thinker ready for open discussion from all sides and so many colleges, and universities have become so close-minded.
Not sure if I could find a place that protects constitutionally protected speech when the First Amendment is respected. A different viewpoint seems to offend some weak people and understanding through looking at all viewpoints doesn’t seem to be welcome. This nation is not perfect, but I’d rather be here than any other. I value our culture, as imperfect as it is.”
“As long as nations are made of imperfect people, they won’t be perfect.” “Very correct, Bill. Censorship only reflects a society’s lack of confidence in itself. It’s a hallmark of authoritarian regimes like the Nazis, Stalinists, Maoists, socialists, and communists.
Tyrants always say they support free speech. They use it to indoctrinate and proselytize, but once they gained control, it became a liability and must be suppressed. I see it happening on today’s campuses and fear it’s spreading.”
“So what’s you gonna do, Roger?”
“Don’t know if I’m up for the fight. I think for now my best place is to stay here and see what I can do with the fresh and cold cases around here.” “Hernandez and others would welcome that. We need all the help we can get.” Roger said, “I’m leaning that way, but I’ll let you know for sure. In the meantime, I think I’ll stop down at Umpa’s Restaurant and see if Marsha is still interested in a try at another date.”
“What happened the first time?”
“Nothin’. One of her kids got sick, and she canceled.” Bill asked, “Think the kid was really sick? Not fakin’ it to keep some strange man away from his mom?” “No, she said he was sick. Picked up something at school. Puking all over the place. I think I’ll try again. A little time around a good looking and fun lady would be a welcome change from the company who just happens to be drinking another of my beers nearby, Bill.”
Bill chugged the last of his beer. “Want another beer?” “Sure,” Roger said. “Get me another one of the Jamaican Red Stripes. And while you’re at it, why don’t you get another for yourself, old buddy.”
Bill seemed unfazed by Roger’s tone. He said, “No worries, mon” as he left for the beer. When he returned, he handed one to Roger and popped open the one in his hand. “You sure have a good supply of different beers, Roger. And nice and cold too.”
“You’re welcome. Seems you’ve been a major reason my supply’s been dwindling.”
Bill smiled, “Ya mon, tanks, no problem.”
Roger gave Bill prize-worthy eye roll. “If I didn’t have this cat on my lap, I might boot you off my property.”
“Don’t disturb the cat on my account. She may just dig into a grumpy old man’s thighs, and that would only make him grumpier, if that’s possible.” “True. Guess you better be going then, Bill.”
“I will. Till I see you next time. Roger, that Roger. Oh, I made a funny, and the grumpy old man didn’t like it.”
“Get outta here before I do something I may regret.”
“Okay, okay. I know when I’ve worn out my welcome. Thanks for the beer. Come again anytime.”
“Maybe I should throw this cat with the razor-sharp claws on you,” Roger said. “Don’t do it. I’m not worth the effort, and you could be arrested for cruelty to animals.” “True. The cat probably would catch some exotic disease from you.” “Thanks again, Roger for your wonderful hospitality. And refreshments.” Roger snarled.
Bill said, “Okay, okay. I’m leaving.”
“Bill, there is one more important thing you need to know. Missy was dying. She’d just been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She didn’t have long to live. If her killer had just waited, nature would have finished her off.”
A dumbstruck look came to his face. “What?” He stumbled for words. “Dying?” He sighed. “That would explain a lot of things. You sure know how to drop a bombshell.”
Roger said, “Now, answer me a question. What was your alibi and how was Shirley involved?” Bill sat back down. “Okay, I can tell you now. I was in bed with Shirley at the time Missy died. It’s a little complicated. Shirley and B.J. were married in name only. B.J. was with his boyfriend in Orlando. They stayed together for two reasons: the kids and because they enjoyed the perks of him being a county commissioner. They didn’t want news of this to get out, or the good life would be over. They di
dn’t want to spoil the life they’d taken time to build up even if it was a facade. Shirley said she would provide me with an alibi, but I said no. It would work out. I knew it would. Now her divorce is coming up, and the story is known around the county, there’s no point in hiding it anymore. Shirley and me were humping like dogs in heat in her bed when Missy died, and that’s the truth.”
In a neutral voice, Roger said, “I can believe that. It’s what I suspected. I had to hear it from your lips.”
“It was a difficult secret to keep, but it was my choice. I wanted to protect Shirley as best I could.”
“I believe I understand.”
The two men said nothing for a moment. Bill said, “Now, I know I have to go. Think I’ve got some thinking to do. Bye.”
“Bye.” Roger watched as he walked down the lane to his truck. He nearly stumbled on the dirt path. Bill looked at Roger, but Roger looked down at the cat and pretended he hadn’t seen the misstep. Bill turned back and continued walking. Clearly, Bill’s mind was elsewhere. He hopped in his truck. Roger waved as Bill started out and Bill responded half-heartedly.
Roger sighed and stroked the cat’s back. “You know, cat. That guy can come through in a pinch, but he sure can be a pain and a surprise too. What do you think of that?”
She turned her head to look at him, stretched, and then got cozy on his lap. “You know, cat, this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Now all you need is a name. I’ll have to work on one that suits you.”
Roger stroked the cat’s back, and she began to purr. Roger smiled. Maybe he’d call her Purrfect. He’d think on it. What was he going to do? Going back to teach didn’t seem appealing at this time. The thought of a new minor at a college in female companionship did have a certain allure to it, but he thought perhaps he was over the one night stands and girlfriend flings. Marriage had spoiled him. He wanted and needed commitment.
Maybe he would stay here and continue helping the local law enforcement agencies. What else did he have to do? It’d nearly gotten him killed doing so, but he wasn’t drinking as much, and if he continued drinking himself into a stupor every day, he would kill himself. Dying for something he loved and believed in was undoubtedly the better of the two. Maybe he would stay. Maybe. Why not? All he had to lose was his life. But if he did die, it would be on his feet doing what he was good at, not passed out drunk on a floor alone. Yeah, he’d help as long as he was needed, and he wanted to. After that, who knows? He’d cross that bridge when he got there. Maybe he’d try beauty school then. He chuckled to himself. Beauty school? Not. Who was he trying to kid?
He stroked the cat’s back some more, and she stretched out her front legs so far her claws showed. He heard the phone, but ignored it as it continued to ring. The cat looked up at him as if to ask, “Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“No, I’m not, cat. Probably another salesman trying to sell me a cemetery plot or a time-share neither of which I want or need at this time.” Roger heard the familiar voice on the answering machine say, “No one is available to answer your call. Leave a message, and it will be returned as soon as possible.”
A male voice rang out, “Hey you big galoof. Answer your phone. This is Bill. I know you’re there. Anyway, in all the harassment I forgot to tell you some good news. I had another call from the governor’s office. Seems a deal on getting funding for a serious archaeological dig at the Windover site should soon be a done deal. A little jawboning and back slapping and palm greasing on some pet projects of some of the opposition by our illustrious governor and voila, the votes are there for funding. Ain’t democracy great?
“Oh, there’s still some elbowing around for a place at the table by the archaeologists on the state universities’ payrolls, but the governor seems very confident he can get all to see it would be best to have the person who did the original investigation as the head of the project. In other words, punkinhead, you’ve got a job right up your alley if you still want it. It’s yours for the asking. And by the way, Mr. Do Good, watch out for the vermin as you drain the swamp. They call it home and fight dirty to keep it a quagmire. That’s all. Thanks for the beer and as Forrest Gump says, ‘Have a nice day.’ Later gator. Bye.”
Roger smiled. Yup, bad things can happen to people with good intentions. It was wise to beware and be prepared. And now some good news from ole Bill. He’d been in need of some, but who was this Gump fellow? Another one of Canaveral Flats’ interesting assortment of oddball characters? Roger did remember seeing a book with that name on the cover on Bill’s overflowing coffee table at his house next to another book by John D. MacDonald. Roger knew who MacDonald was. Born in the same general area as he was and transplanted to Florida as he likewise now was. But this Gump guy? Well, whatever. He stroked the cat’s back gently. Somehow, he had a feeling it would all work out in the long run. He’d seen it happen in the lives of others. Maybe it was his turn for a revelation.
CHAPTER 31
“Mr. Smith. I’m home. Where are you?” She sat the full brown paper bag with the green Publix Super Market label on the side on the counter. A voice came from the other room. “I know. You set off all the alarms on purpose to let me know that.”
“I did. I didn’t feel like doing a Peter Seller’s Pink Panther and Kato routine.”
Mr. Smith walked into the kitchen. “Yeah, the last time you did that it was kind of intense. We really tore up this place.”
“We did,” she said. “Gators been fed lately?” “Not since the two Russians. Why?”
“They seemed hungry today.” “Hungry gators make great watchdogs. Fat ones with full stomachs do not. Still, I’ll check. Don’t want them eating each other.” He stopped. “We had a call while you were gone.” “And?”
“It was them.” “And?”
“And they approved of the way we handled the situation and stayed out of it for the most part. We didn’t blow our cover, and we protected our subject.”
“So what do we do now?” “We wait and watch. ODESSA is still out there, but our contact couldn’t tell us where or when they’ll move, so we wait and watch. Report if we see or hear anything helpful.”
“About what I thought,” she said. “These are the times I hate. I feel like an impatient vulture. I want to get something going. I want to kill something.”
“I know. Patience. We wait, and we wait, and we wait some more.” “Right. We wait and make the best of it. Do you think the subject is aware of us?”
He said, “no, but I hear he’s slick and smart, when he’s not drinking his cares away.”
“Maybe we should send him a bottle for solving the case?” “Don’t think so,” he said. “It could make him wonder who sent it and why.” “True. We wait and watch till there’s something to report. That was pretty slick how you slipped the snake in his mailbox.”
“Thanks, honey. It made him up his game a notch.” “Did you tell D about it?
“No, it was a detail they didn’t need to know.” He stopped. “ODESSA’s still out there planning.” She smiled, “And we’ll be waiting and ready.” “We will.”
“Oh, by the way, your father’s back in town.” “How do you know?” “I saw a goat grazing near the front fence.”
“Hmmm. That would be a definite sign he’s come back. Guess I’ll need to go over and see him. Can’t have him coming here.” “No, definitely not a good idea. There are days Mr. Smith, I can’t believe you came from that stock.”
“Most people don’t get to pick their parents. Still, I think I get my sense of adventure from him. It’s just directed in a different manner. And doing without when I was a kid, did toughen me up to the harsh realities of this world. You learn to use what you have, to improvise, and make do when you have to. Guess that’s where the MacGyver in me comes from.”
“True,” she said. “I’ll take you just as you are. What’re your feelings on this present situation?” “I don’t know. It frightens me a little bit. They were and are a ruthless adversary, but somet
hing’s changed with them, and I’m not sure where it will end, not in a good way I’m afraid.”
“There’s no good way with them.”
“I know. I’m afraid they’ll only become wiser and more deadly.” “Husband, I believe you’re right.”
“So we wait. We listen. We watch. We wait. We try to have a plan ready when the call comes as it will.”
“Yes. We’ll be ready.”
“We will. Not being ready could be fatal.” He nodded. “We’ll be ready.”
THE END WANT TO READ MORE?
Braddock’s Gold Novels – Braddock’s Gold, Hunter’s Moon, Fool’s Wisdom, and Killing Darkness
Florida Murder Mystery Novels – Death at Windover and Murder at the Canaveral Diner Murder at the Canaveral Diner is the second in the expanding Florida Murder Mystery Novels. While each book in the series is a standalone novel, they’re all great stories on their own. Readers say he keeps getting better. All of Mr. Heavner’s six books can be found on Amazon as ebooks and paperbacks. The first book, Braddock’s Gold, is also available as an audiobook from Audible at Amazon.
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DEATH AT
WINDOVER
CHAPTER 1
Words have no power to impress the mind
without the exquisite horror of their reality.
Edgar Allen Poe The swamp seemed deep and like gumbo as Speedy Vanderjack probed it with the big hydraulic arm bucket of the huge backhoe. He scooped up bucket after bucket of the stinking muck and placed it to the side where he was making a connecting road. Sweat rolled down his face and chest from the extreme heat. He swatted away hungry mosquitoes that ignored the cloud from the short cigar he smoked and the 100% DEET mosquito repellent he wore. One bit at his scarred nose still healing from the removal of cancerous spots. He smacked it with his right hand. A bloody spot in his palm showed he had killed the little bloodsucker. “That’ll teach you, you little beggar, not to mess with this country boy,” he said out loud.