The Virgil Jones Mystery Thriller Boxed Set

by Thomas Scott

The governor smiled. “Hell of an article in The Star, wasn’t it? Except they got one small detail wrong. The ISP hasn’t declared a strike. If they had, Cool wouldn’t be flying my helicopter, or out there fishing in your pond right now. They were close to calling a strike, and point of fact, they probably still might. In fact…I’d bet on it. But they haven’t yet and by bringing in the guard I’ve taken some of their leverage away.”

  “What about Pam Donatti?” Virgil said. “The police union is standing with her. As I understand it, that’s what the strike is all about.”

  “Yes. That’s what makes politics so frustrating,” Cora said. “We’re on her side, though you wouldn’t know it by speaking with her lawyers. This whole situation is a result of the governor trying to do the right thing for a fallen officer of the state, while the legislature is using it as a call to arms. Pam and her son deserve those benefits.”

  “And they’re going to get them,” the governor said. “What we need to do is expose the motivations that are driving the sub-committee members. The chair of the committee in particular.”

  “Kreg Gordon,” Cora said. “That’s ‘Kreg’ with a K.” She made air quotes when she said it.

  “Does he really spell his name that way?” Murton asked.

  “He does,” Cora said. “That should tell you half of everything you need to know, right there.”

  Virgil looked at Cora. “Congratulations on the new job. I think you’re a perfect fit, not only for the position, but for the governor as well.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What about the MCU?”

  Cora glanced at the governor, who stood and said, “Jonesy, Murton. Hope to see you around.”

  Murton raised his eyebrows and Virgil said, “Sir?”

  “I think I’ll step outside,” the governor said. “Go for a little stroll. This is a hell of a place you’ve got, Jonesy. I love the peace and quiet out here. Plus, I’m still a little old school.”

  Cora got right to it. “The Major Crimes Unit is expanding. We’re splitting the state into thirds, top to bottom. The northern third starts at the Michigan line and extends south to the northern borders of Montgomery, Boone, Hamilton, and a few other counties running east to west, but it’s a pretty good line. The center third is from there down to a line based on the northern border of Monroe, Brown, Bartholomew, and Decatur Counties. The southern third gets everything else. There might be a little overlap on the lines. Some of the counties are taller than the others. We’ll work out the logistics on a case-by-case assessment. Ron Miles is in charge of the whole shebang and will personally take the northern third until we get more people on board. It’s a matter of funding, and I’m working on that as we speak. Rosie is taking the southern third. But anyone can float, as needed.”

  “That’s great information, Cora,” Virgil said. “What does it have to do with us?”

  “As of today, all members of the MCU are considered special investigators for the state. Like it or not, that means political appointees.” She reached into her bag, pulled out Virgil’s badge and set it on the table. “There may still be some pond scum on there. Try and get it cleaned up. We need the center of the state covered, effective immediately.” She let her eyelids droop when she said it.

  Virgil just stared at her.

  “There’s going to be some paperwork, and you’ll be required to undergo infrequent and random drug testing.”

  Virgil continued to stare.

  “You’ll be part of the MCU, but—and this is important—officially you’ll be listed as the director of public safety and oversight. That’s a fancy way of saying you’ll be the governor’s fixer. The rest of the unit will run everything up through the chain of command, but you’ll report directly to the governor through me.”

  Virgil said nothing.

  “You’ll be running your own intelligence. If you need something, you’ll have it, within reason, of course.”

  Virgil remained silent.

  “You can pick whomever you’d like to replace Ed.” She glanced at Murton. “No questions asked.”

  More silence.

  “You’ll receive back pay for the time you were, um, on sabbatical.”

  Virgil continued to stare.

  “In one lump sum. With interest.”

  More silence still.

  “A nice fat check. Lots of zero’s.” Cora took an envelope from her bag and set it on the table. “Payable immediately.”

  Virgil opened the envelope and looked at the check. He set it back on the table and frowned at her.

  Cora tossed her arms in the air, then let them flop down by her sides. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. It was a mistake. The biggest professional mistake I’ve ever made.”

  “What mistake are you referring to, Cora?”

  She pointed a finger at him, a little gravel in her voice. “Don’t push me, Jonesy.” A hint of a smile, though. After a moment or two she said, “It was a mistake to fire you. I’m sorry. Can we get on with it now, please?”

  “I forgive you,” Virgil said.

  “So are you coming back or not?”

  “I’ll think about,” Virgil said.

  Virgil thought about it…for approximately two half-seconds.

  He picked up the badge and the check and put them in his pocket.

  Murton looked at Cora’s bag. “Got anything in there for me?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  Cora pulled an Indiana State Police Detective’s badge out and tossed it to Murton. “No cowboy shit. You’re lucky you used to be a fed because we do need a replacement for Donatti.” She tipped her head toward Virgil then said, “And someone to look after this one. In the meantime, raise your right hand and repeat after me.”

  Murton got his hand half way up, then stopped. “Wait a minute. Do I get a signing bonus too?”

  “No, you do not. And it’s not a signing bonus. It’s money he should have had all along.”

  “Still,” Murton said, “It seems like I’m getting the short end of the—”

  “Do you want the job, or not?”

  Murton still had his hand half way up in the air. “Well, yeah, of course I do.”

  “Then raise your goddamned hand and repeat the hell after me,” Cora said. She was practically shouting.

  Murton looked at Virgil and said, “See? Very direct sometimes.”

  They discussed the administrative minutiae for a few minutes, laying out a rough outline. “We’ll want Becky for sure,” Murton said.

  Virgil agreed. “Yes, we will.”

  Cora leaned forward in her chair. “No, you will not.”

  Murton cocked his head at her. “Yeah…pretty sure we will.”

  “You two still dating?” Cora asked Murton.

  “No, he married Sandy. Don’t you remember? Delroy walked her down the aisle and gave her away. I was the best man. I think you drank too much at the reception. You were sort of listing to port there, by the end of the evening.”

  Cora held her hand out. “Give me back that badge.”

  Murton smiled at her and put the badge in his pocket, out of reach. “I’m just messing with you. Yes. Becky and I are still dating.”

  “There’s your bonus, then. I’m not sure how she does it. Listen, we want Becky left out of all this. We want her on the outside, so to speak. We’re aware of her talents with databases and the net. The thinking is we’d have some deniability there. If you were to keep the business open—let’s say strictly a research function—then Becky would have some room to, mmm, maneuver, through your firm.” Cora looked at Virgil. “You can pay her with the discretionary fund. Whatever you guys agree to.”

  “This is already starting to sound a little shady,” Virgil said.

  Cora dismissed it with a wave. “Nothing shady about having a contracted researcher. Way of the world these days. Listen, you guys are going to have to get up to speed as quick as you can. I don’t care what Mac says about leverage and the guard and all that. The union is voting tonight. The
y’re going to walk.”

  “You sure?” Virgil asked.

  “Yes. There’s no question. We’ve got over ninety counties in the state and by this time next week the sheriff of every one of them will be asking for some kind of help until the troopers come back. The Indiana National Guard can’t really do anything except provide visibility, and that’s a double edged sword. They’re going to be a deterrent to crime, but that’s about it. They’re mostly regular folks. Accountants, Walmart clerks, used car salesmen, whatever. The majority of them do it out of a sense of duty and honor for their country. Or to get away from their screaming kids one weekend a month. The problem is a lot of them are gun nuts. Mac might think the legislators have him by the balls now, but the first time one of the guard opens up on a civilian over some bullshit traffic violation, the governor’s going to look back on this like it was a Swedish massage with a happy ending. We don’t want this to start looking like a militarized state. That part is mostly on Mac, which means it’s mostly on me. But I need you guys to do your jobs. I need your help, Jonesy.”

  “You can count on me, Cora. You know that. We’ll do our best.”

  “I know you will. Let’s hope it’s enough. Your old office is waiting for you.” To Murton: “Get over to the state’s HR department today. You’ll find someone there waiting for you. Do the paper. I’ll set up the backend paper for Becky myself. We’ll want to keep that quiet. I don’t want anyone to know we’ve got outside assets.”

  “You got it,” Murton said.

  “Virgil, can you do anything about Pam?” Cora asked. “We really are trying to help her, but she keeps getting in her own way. What’s going on there?”

  “I’m not sure. She’s awfully wound up. I’ll speak to Sandy about it.”

  “Do that. Figure out a way to…unwind her. If the governor can get in front of the committee and she can get paid, the troopers come back and the guard goes away. In the meantime, there’s something happening down in Shelby County. You know the sheriff down there?”

  “Never met him, but I know of him.”

  “Yeah. Me too. He used to own a dry-cleaning service. I don’t think he could solve a two-piece crossword puzzle.”

  “Sounds like we’re thinking of the same guy. Holder or Hopper or something like that?”

  “Yeah. They’ve got a missing farmer down there, part of some co-op deal with a natural gas company.”

  “The MCU is doing missing persons now?” Virgil said. “That’s a little…dry.”

  “You’ve got the center of the state…and Mac wants you on it.” Cora looked like she wanted to say more, but she looked at her watch instead. “Okay. Get to it. The case file for the Shelby County thing is on your desk. We’re out of here. Mac has a meeting…”

  They walked Cora out to the helicopter. “Everything in order?” the governor asked to no one in particular.

  “It is,” Cora said.

  The governor clapped his hands together. “Wonderful. Murton, welcome aboard. I can’t begin to tell you what a pleasure it is to have a former federal agent working for the MCU.”

  “The pleasure’s mine, Sir,” Murton said.

  “Listen, about the socks…thank you,” the governor said. “Do you really like them or were you being facetious?”

  “No, I’m serious. Not my style, you understand, but I appreciate the effort. Of course, you have to remember it’s coming from a guy wearing a shirt with a bunch of drunk broads all over it.”

  “Nice try,” the governor said. “I’ve seen that shirt. You got it from The Pop-Up, downtown, didn’t you? I’m in there every chance I get…when I can find them. I love the fact that they try to hide their store. No advertising, no Facebook or Twitter or any of that crap. You have to know, you know?”

  “I do,” Murton said. “Everything they have is a one-off custom. A little pricey, but a guy’s got to look the part…make an impression. Sometimes you wonder if anyone notices.”

  They were both looking at Virgil who pretended like he wasn’t listening.

  The pilot was already on board, flipping switches and going through the checklist. “Virgil,” the governor said as he pulled open the passenger door for Cora before climbing in the helicopter, “welcome back.” Then to the pilot: “Cool, goddamn it, I said catch and release.”

  “I did, boss. Honest.”

  “Honest my ass. It smells like carp in here.” He made a twirling motion with his hand before he pulled the door shut. “Let’s go.”

  The main rotor began to turn and Virgil saw Cool motion him over to the pilot’s side door. He stepped up, unconsciously ducking the rotor even though it wasn’t necessary. Cool stuck his head all the way out the window so the governor wouldn’t hear him and said, “I borrowed one of your small coolers. The blue Coleman. I pulled a half-dozen bluegill and a bass that’s going to be grilled to perfection later tonight. Anyway, the cooler…I’ll get it back to you.”

  “No problem,” Virgil said with an evil grin. He stocked his pond with bluegill, bass, and perch. Clearly the governor didn’t know his fish, but still…Carp? He was mildly offended.

  7

  It didn’t take much effort to convince Pam it would be a good thing if Sandy got Jonas out of the house. “You can get some rest, and I’ll take Jonas over to my place. He can go fishing with Virgil and I’ll have him back here tonight.” Then another thought crossed her mind. “You know what? Can we have Jonas for the night? I know it might sound silly to you, but I sort of feel like I need the practice. I need to know what it’ll feel like to have a child in the house. What do you think?”

  Pam wasn’t so sure. “I think you think I’m a bad mother, that’s what I think.”

  “Pam, I don’t. You’re a great mother. I just believe you’re exhausted and you could use a break. Let me help you. Besides, I really do need the practice. I’m not kidding. I’ve never even been a babysitter. That probably doesn’t make you want to say yes, but it’s the truth. If you don’t want to do it for yourself then do it for me, as a friend. I need it…the practice.”

  Pam thought it over and eventually agreed that she was awfully tired. Maybe it would be best if she could get a little time to herself. If she could get a good night’s rest things might look better in the morning. She deserved that, didn’t she? Could Sandy get the booster seat hooked up without her?

  “Of course. Just sit right here and relax. You want me to make you some coffee or something before we go?”

  The alcohol was running through her system and Pam mumbled something that could have been either a yes or a no. Sandy decided it was a no. She got the booster seat transferred to her own car and then went back inside to collect Jonas. By the time they were ready to go, Pam was asleep on the sofa.

  Jonas tugged at her hand, and they were out the door.

  Murton watched the helicopter until it was out of sight, then turned and looked at Virgil.

  “What?”

  “Do we need to keep an eye on him?”

  “The Governor? No.” Then Virgil thought about it for a few seconds. “We need to keep an eye on us.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Murton said. Then, “A little old school, my ass.”

  They let that lie there for a minute before agreeing that they’d meet at the bar first thing in the morning to close up the private investigation side of things, get Becky organized, and let Delroy know that he’d be short staffed for a while. “He’s not going to be too happy with us,” Murton said.

  “He’ll be okay,” Virgil said. “He’s running the place as it is, anyway.” Murton wasn’t quite so sure, but they left it at that. After Murton was gone Virgil walked down to the pond and stood next to the cross that he’d carved from a fallen willow tree. The tree had been planted as a memorial to his father, Mason Jones, who’d been killed during one of Virgil’s previous cases. When a tornado took the tree down earlier in the year, Virgil used what was left of the stump to carve the cross. He set his badge on the arm of the cross, then c
alled Sandy from his cell.

  “Have I got a surprise for you,” he said when she answered.

  “That makes two of us,” Sandy said.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’m about twenty minutes away. Get your fishing gear out, will you?”

  “Ah, listen, I don’t think I’m going to have time today. Some things have—”

  “Virgil?”

  “Yes?”

  “Get your gear out.”

  Virgil, like most men, recognized the tone of a wife who was going to have her way. He didn’t push it. “See you in twenty, then,” he said.

  Sandy clicked off.

  Virgil went and got his fishing gear.

  When he returned from the shed, Virgil felt like something had changed. He could actually feel it in the air. He had that long-time cop-sense that most cops have…the living ones, that is. If you didn’t have it, well…

  He set his gear down and turned a complete circle. He scanned the woods line on the far side of the pond, but saw nothing out of the ordinary…no one lurking in the trees, no glare from binoculars, or worse, a rifle scope. He stared at the woods for a full minute, then walked the perimeter of the house. Everything seemed in order, but something felt off. When he got back down to the pond he set up two folding chairs and a small table. He propped two cane poles against the table and when he glanced at the cross he suddenly knew what had changed.

  His badge had been moved from one side of the cross to the other.

  Or had it? He stopped and turned away from the cross, closed his eyes and replayed the last five minutes in his head. He’d walked down to the pond, over to the cross, set his badge down on the arm closest to him, which, given the direction he’d come would have been on the left side if facing the cross with the shed in the background. Yes, he was sure of it. But now it was on the right side. He left his eyes closed and stood quietly.

  “Don’t over think it, Son,” Mason said.