The Fiercest Enemy

by Rick Reed

  “He’s like a vacuum cleaner. The Fritos don’t even touch his fingers,” Shaunda remarked.

  “Et tu Brutus,” Liddell said to her.

  “If you’re quoting Julius Caesar,” Shaunda corrected him, “what he said was, ‘Et tu, Brute.’ Not Brutus. Brute. Silent e.”

  Liddell crunched some Frito’s and mumbled, “I was quoting Jack Murphy.”

  “Oh. That’s perfectly understandable then,” Shaunda said.

  “Where to now Brutus,” Liddell asked Jack.

  “Hutsonville PD. We don’t have much information in the file. It’s been seven years but maybe they can shed some light on Clint Baker’s life… and death. Maybe they have a report on talking to Gumby back there at the bar.”

  Chapter 37

  They found nothing helpful in the visit with the Hutsonville Police. Detective Sergeant Steven Bohleber had worked the case, but he and his wife had died in a suspicious house fire a couple of months after Clint Baker’s body was found. The captain in charge of the Investigations Unit had told Jack that Bohleber was a very meticulous investigator and had a reputation for overworking his cases if anything. Holidays, weekends, days off. He was dedicated. He had taken his notes and most of the case files home. The only thing the captain could tell them was that Bohleber was the only one that was convinced Baker’s death wasn’t a drug overdose, or an accidental or intentional drowning. Bohleber believed Baker had been killed and the scene staged.

  The captain said it ‘looked’ like a suicide to his Crime Scene folks and there were heavy duty drugs found in his system at autopsy. Baker had no known enemies, but he was known to hang with youngsters and teenagers. Baker’s wife insisted the suicide was because the high school administrators had accused him of messing with the kids and harassed him after firing him.

  They thanked the captain and were heading back to Dugger, Liddell driving.

  “I thought this was the case you didn’t think was involved with the others?” Shaunda asked from the backseat. She’d begun holding her arm against her ribs and it was obvious she needed to get some pain medication and rest.

  “No stone unturned. We’ll rework all the cases from the beginning,” Jack said. “Maybe exhume the bodies for a second autopsy.” He hoped that didn’t become necessary.

  “You still don’t believe this Anderson guy is the killer?” Shaunda asked. “Maybe Baker’s wife knocked him off for insurance? Or because he was abusive to kids like that captain said. Or maybe because she had a chance at a real life, with money and doing the thing she loved like boarding horses and giving riding lessons. What will it take for you to let this go? Does your boss have to call and order you to drop it?”

  Liddell chuckled. “You don’t know Jack. Once he’s like this he doesn’t stop and I trust him. If he says there’s someone else, you’d better believe there is someone else.”

  They were nearing Dugger and turned toward Rosie’s place. “We’re dropping you off, Chief. You need to take some of the pain pills they gave you at the hospital and get some rest before you go anywhere. You’ve got your daughter to think of. You’re no good to anyone right now.”

  “Are you saying I’m bitching too much?”

  Neither man stepped on that landmine.

  “Well, welcome to the real Shaunda Lynch,” she said. “I can take a hint. I want to keep in the loop. Tell me what you’re doing next. After all I have an interest in this too.”

  “We’re going to the Chute Me Bar in Sullivan to talk to them since the call to dispatch was placed from there. We need to find family, friends, coworkers, enemies, drug dealers, favorite restaurants, library, that kind of thing,” Jack said.

  “Library? What the hell could you possibly hope to find there?”

  “These guys all went to high school. Maybe one of them could read. Librarians are a good source. They notice things. I’m not saying Sullivan dropped the ball on the investigation. I’m just collecting the scraps.”

  They stopped in the lot of Rosie’s place and let Shaunda out. She leaned in the open door and asked, “You’re not coming in?”

  “Places to go. Rights to violate,” Jack said.

  “Knock yourself out,” she said and headed inside.

  Liddell asked Jack, “Back to Hutsonville?”

  “Eunice Lynch,” Jack confirmed. “Angelina texted me while we were on our way here. Shaunda’s aunt Eunice is alive and well in Hutsonville.”

  “Shaunda lied?” Liddell said.

  “Yep. Did you see the way that bartender stared at her?”

  “I did, but Shaunda said it was the uniform.”

  “He couldn’t take his eyes off of her,” Jack said. “He recognized Clint Baker.”

  “Yeah.”

  Jack said, “Shaunda said she wanted to be in on this but she sure didn’t want to spend any time in that bar.”

  “Maybe she was in pain, pod’na. Give her a break.”

  “She seemed to be okay when she got out of the car. I don’t think her wound is as serious as we thought.”

  “She’s a police officer and she’s under pressure to find the killer. Her job might depend on it. Don’t forget someone clobbered her and threatened her kid,” Liddell said.

  “She was no help this morning. All she did was drag her feet once we got there. She lied about her aunt. She’s asking a lot of questions about what we plan to do.”

  “Yeah. I guess that isn’t normal behavior for a policeman. Policewoman I mean. After the aunt are we really going to Sullivan and check out the bar?”

  “How could we not go to a place called the Chute Me Bar?”

  Liddell pulled out and turned toward State Road 54 again. In less than thirty minutes they had found the aunt’s house. Eunice Lynch was Shaunda’s father’s older sister. Angelina told them that Shaunda’s mother had an extended family that branched out across the country, but the father only had the one living sister.

  Eunice’s house was typical of the farmhouses in the area. The old wood siding was newly painted white, as was the wood railed front porch and wooden steps. The house was closely bordered by tall cedar trees for a wind break from the empty farm fields that surrounded it.

  Liddell parked on the shoulder of the graveled road. The oval glass pane in the front door was covered with a blind. A wood framed double paned window overlooked the porch. The curtain was being held back. Jack and Liddell stepped up onto the porch and an unsmiling heavily made up woman opened the door. She was dressed smartly in a dark skirt and white turtleneck sweater. Her hair was dark and worn short and wavy. According to Angelina she was seventy years old, but only her eyes gave her age away. She was short and slightly built like Shaunda, with dark alert eyes. She wasn’t surprised to see them.

  “Come in,” she said. “I’ll put coffee on. Unless you’d like some tea.”

  “Tea would be great,” Liddell said, before Jack could answer.

  They entered the house into a small foyer and she led them into the front room from where she had watched them arrive.

  “Have a seat,” she said and walked away.

  They sat on each end of a curved, brown leather sectional sofa facing a wood burning fireplace. A glass topped oval coffee table sat in front of the sofa. A matching chaise lounge sat where it faced the sofa and the fireplace. There was no sign of a television. The mantelpiece over the fireplace was filled with paperbacks. Jack got up and looked at the titles. The Highlander Comes, Her Castle Keeper, Bound by Love, and so forth. Most of the books showed a muscular man wearing a kilt and wielding a gleaming sword, while a long blonde haired damsel was at his feet in lustful distress.

  Jack heard a tea kettle begin steaming and hurriedly stood by the sofa just as Eunice came back carrying a tray with two tea cups, sugar, honey, cream, and two tiny spoons. “For goodness sake, have a seat. I’m sorry for the mess. I haven’t cleaned today yet.
”

  Jack looked around the room. You could eat off the floor and it was still very early. He and Liddell sat on the sofa and then got back up to introduce themselves. She again didn’t seem surprised the FBI had come to her house far out in the country.

  “I’m assuming this is about my niece,” she said.

  Jack just nodded. He wondered what she thought she knew about their reason for being there.

  Eunice said, “I read the papers about the murder of that man last week. The paper said he was the Linton Police Chief’s son and the body was found in Dugger. That poor girl.”

  Jack waited for her to continue.

  “Would you like some cookies to go with the tea?” she asked. “I’m afraid I have a beauty appointment this morning and I haven’t had time to bake anything.”

  “No ma’am. We just ate and my partner’s on a diet,” Jack said.

  “Nonsense,” Eunice said. “He looks perfectly healthy to me. I’ll get you something.” With that she left again.

  Liddell muttered to Jack, “Diet?”

  “She’s taking too long to spit out what she knows,” Jack muttered back.

  From the kitchen, Eunice said, “I’m going to tell you but you have to be patient. I don’t get many visitors, and you can’t be in that much of a hurry or you wouldn’t have driven all the way out here from Evansville.”

  She came back in with a plate of sugar cookies with white icing and sprinkles.

  “How did you know we’re from Evansville?” Jack asked.

  “Your license plate number,” she said and settled into a chair. “82 is the prefix for Vanderburgh County. I have friends in Evansville. I have good hearing and eyesight too.”

  “You were going to tell us why we’re here,” Jack reminded her.

  “No, I was telling you that I’d heard about that young man’s body being found in Dugger. I read it in the newspaper. That article also mentioned my niece, Shaunda. She’s the Chief of Police there I gather. The article wasn’t very complimentary of her and I felt sorry for her. That girl’s had more than her share of pain.”

  Liddell asked, “Have you had contact with her recently, ma’am?”

  “Call me Eunice. Please. No. I didn’t know she was back in Dugger until I saw the article. Why she would ever go back there I haven’t a clue. That place was nothing but misery for her.”

  Jack had a thought. “Liddell is going to show you a picture.”

  Liddell pulled up the picture of Clint Baker on his cell phone. Eunice looked at it closely and shook her head. “Am I supposed to know this person?”

  Jack said, “Probably not. He was a murder victim from seven years ago.”

  “That would be the high school janitor,” Eunice said. “I recall that one because we don’t have murders around here. All our residents go somewhere else to get killed.”

  Jack couldn’t help but smile. “Do you recall his name?”

  “Of course. It was Clint Baker. His wife got remarried less than a year after he died. She married some big shot and runs a horse farm out in the county.”

  “Just how do you know all that?” Jack asked.

  “This is a small town, Agent Murphy. That’s why I don’t want to miss my hair appointment. That’s where you hear all the juicy gossip.”

  “We won’t keep you long. Just a few more questions please.”

  “I guess you don’t want more tea then.” She sat back.

  “Was there ever a rumor of a suspect in the Baker case?” Jack asked.

  “Not a word. We heard he was into drugs, and that was why they fired him from the high school, but then we heard he was doing things to the young people.”

  “Like what?” Jack asked.

  “You know. Like being one of those pedophiles. I heard he was always hanging around the freshmen girls…and boys.”

  “Did Shaunda know him?” Jack asked her.

  Eunice looked away. “I don’t know if he was the one—” she began and stopped.

  “The one?” Jack asked.

  Eunice said, “Hang on a minute. I’m going to call the shop and tell them I’ll be a little late.”

  She left the room and Jack mouthed the words at Liddell. “The one?”

  Liddell took out his digital recorder and checked that it worked. When Eunice came back in the room and sat down she saw the recorder and said, “I guess if you must.”

  Liddell turned the recorder on and set it on the table.

  * * * *

  They said goodbye to Eunice and were back in the Crown Vic. Jack headed towards Sullivan. The calls reporting both Winter’s and Washington’s bodies were made from a bar called Chute Me. The one in Sullivan would be another little dive bar with a public phone available and little or nothing in the way of witnesses.

  Liddell turned on the recorder and put it on the console. They listened to the recorded conversation. When the recording ended Liddell put it in his pocket.

  “What do you think?” Liddell asked.

  Jack drove in silence, thinking. “Where is the Chute Me Bar?”

  Liddell asked Siri and she gave directions. He told Jack, “You have to stay on Highway 154 to Sullivan. We should drive right by it when we get through town.”

  Jack took a breath and let it out slowly. He said, “What do you think?”

  Liddell crossed his arms and looked out of the car window at the fields and farmhouses passing by. “It makes a good case for a revenge shooting. Your turn.”

  Jack said, “I wonder if Chief Jerrell knows about Shaunda?”

  Liddell turned toward Jack. “You think Jerrell would help cover something like that up? I mean a murder? I don’t believe it. He said he was gone on deployment a lot during the time all that high school shit was going on. He may not have even heard about it because he didn’t get along very well with his wife and kid. Eunice said what happened to Shaunda was never in the paper and no one knew about it except Shaunda and her parents.”

  “Eunice and Eunice’s son who is now deceased,” Jack said. “If it makes you feel any better I agree that Jerrell more than likely had no knowledge of this.”

  “Can you imagine carrying that around in your head all those years. She deserves a medal for getting through all that and raising a handicapped daughter to boot. Holy cow!”

  Chapter 38

  The Chute Me Bar was wedged between a gun shop and a walk-in medical clinic. The brick walls of the inside of the bar were covered with genuine coal chute trap doors made of iron, the kind that allowed coal to be loaded into basements of homes that burned coal in their stoves or fireplaces for heat. The top of the bar was made up of two conveyor belts that were each ten feet long and three feet wide. The conveyor belts still worked and delivered drinks to patrons. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked.

  The bartender this time was a woman of about twenty-five going on sixty. Her hair had been bleached so many times it stuck out like straw on her head and was currently tipped with purple and green Kool-Aid colors. She wasn’t old enough to have been working in the bar—legally—at the time the victims were still walking, breathing and drinking and she didn’t know anything helpful except how to call the boss. The boss was an attorney who worked just down the street. He was more than happy to talk to the FBI.

  He was also of no help but he did call a long time employee that had bartended at a time where he might remember something. The man came in from home. He was in his sixties, wearing stone washed jeans, Hawaiian print shirt and sandals. His gray hair was pulled back tightly into a knot on his crown. His eyes were sharp and he sized up Jack and Liddell as they showed him their FBI credentials. He was reticent at first to answer any questions until Jack reminded him that his boss was an attorney and would gladly represent him for lying to the FBI.

  The owner told the man to give the FBI anything they wanted, excused himself
and seemed to vanish. Jack asked a simple question. “What is your name?”

  “Jack Spratt,” the man said. “Like the Jack Sprat in Mother Goose, but with two T’s and not one.”

  Jack said nothing and Spratt explained further, “You know that rhyme. “Jack Sprat could eat no fat,” and so on.” While saying this Pratt patted his generous midsection and chuckled. “Obviously I can eat fat and do, all the time.”

  Liddell took out his cell phone and showed Spratt the same set of victim’s photos as the other bartenders.

  “I’ve seen these two,” Spratt said, and pointed at the photos of Daniel Winters and Lamont Washington. Those were the boys they found in the stripper pit. Committed suicide I thought. Is that right?”

  “Something like that,” Jack said. “I guess there was a lot of commotion going on that night?”

  “This is a bar. Lots of commotion most nights,” Spratt answered cautiously. “I didn’t see anything if that’s what you’re after.”

  Jack laughed. “You are one sharp customer. I guess you must come by it naturally. How long have you been tending bar, Jack?”

  “Almost as long as you’ve been alive I’ll bet,” Spratt answered with a smile. He was relaxed now.

  “Jack, all we want to know is who came in here and called the police the night the bodies were found.”

  Spratt considered the question. He said, “It was two different nights. About three or four years ago now, I imagine. I remember the police coming in here asking the same questions. Both times. They called me a liar. Said I had to see who came in. I ain’t no liar.”

  Jack said, “We’re not going to call you a liar. We just want to know if your memory is better now that you’ve slept on it.”

  Spratt’s face broke out in a grin. “After three or four years you mean. Well I’ll tell you what I told them then, and it’s the truth, I swear to God and my momma.”

  Jack prepared himself for the lie to follow that remark.

  “You see that phone back on the wall? That’s one of them old rotary dial phones. The boss man put it in for calling a cab. Most of my guys here don’t cause any trouble. They can get a cab ride home and the boss picks up the tab. Nice, huh?”