The Zombie Deception

by Marvin Wolf

  Landon said, “Ash, I just thought of something else. When I was driven to that place, I was blindfolded. When I took my blindfold off, I was in a really big basement parking garage. Big enough for six or eight SUVs with room to spare. On one side, I saw a stairwell that went down even farther.”

  Ash said, “What does that mean?”

  “I’m wondering if the garage is under both Richardson’s house and the one next door to it. If so, the casino might not be in her house at all.”

  Ash smiled. “I’ll check the houses on both sides. And across the alley.”

  Landon’s cell phone rang, and as he listened to his caller, his face grew grim.

  “Sit on that intersection for a bit. Park on the shoulder and raise the hood. Anyone stops except MPs, tell ‘em that the tow truck is en route.”

  He ended the connection and looked up. “That was Keiser. The SUV with my tracker took off before they could get the plate or sticker number. And now it’s disappeared.”

  Chapter 47

  Will walked into General Davis’s office, came to attention, and saluted.

  Davis returned the salute with a casual wave of his hand and gestured toward the chair next to his desk.

  “Sit down, Spaulding. Coffee?”

  “No thanks, sir. Just about coffeed out for the day.”

  Davis smiled, stirred cream into his cup, and took a long sip.

  “I’ve been thinking about that check ride with Mister Lopez. I met the man. Flew with him!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell me what’s going on,” Davis said, replacing the cup in its saucer.

  “There isn’t much to tell,” Will said. “The one thing that is important is that we have established that there are three other abductions from on or near this base, all civilians.”

  “What makes you think that they’re related to our cases?”

  “Three things, sir. In each case, the missing person’s car was left somewhere where it would be found easily, and in each case, it had been wiped of prints. Secondly, the manner in which they happened—in one case, a person with no connection to any of the others just vanishes. In other, two brothers, but abducted separately while the second was looking for the first. No witnesses to the abduction, no evidence of violence, Third, all three were in close proximity to, or on Fort Rucker. And in two of these three, no body.”

  “So a body has been recovered?”

  “Yes, sir. Sharon Coe, 31, divorced mother of a ten-year-old boy. Shot once between the eyes, probably with a 9mm. No slug to examine—it went right through her. She was dropped from a slow-moving helicopter into a farm pond south of Dothan. At night. The farmer found her body two days later when he went fishing for catfish.”

  “Tell me that again?”

  Will repeated his story, adding that the farmer and his wife had paid no attention to the helicopter that dropped Coe.

  Davis cleared his throat. “Why? Because they were accustomed to helicopters flying low and slow over their farm?”

  “Not exactly. They’re used to helicopters flying over and near their farm. This one caught their attention because it was so low and flying so slowly.”

  “What kind of farm is it?”

  “Peanuts. He also raises chickens and hogs.”

  “And you said that this happened at night?”

  “Yes, sir. About 8:00 p.m. Still quite a bit of light in the sky.”

  “What time of year?”

  “Summer. Last August.”

  “Have you been to that farm?”

  “Yes, sir. Talked to the farmer and his wife.”

  “Tell me, Spaulding, when you were on the farm, did you happen to notice a hog wallow?”

  “Not sure what that is, sir.”

  “A place where hogs go to cool off on hot days. Shallow muddy depression, maybe with a few inches of stagnant water in it. It might be several meters long and wide, big enough for several hogs, especially if the hogs aren’t kept in a shaded area during daylight. Was there anything like that on the farm, if you know?”

  “I didn’t see one, sir. But I wasn’t looking for anything like that. Why do you ask?”

  “Because the moment you said, ‘hog farm,’ or whatever it was that you said—you mentioned that he raised hogs and chickens—I tried to picture what that might look like from the air. And then you mentioned that the body of this unfortunate woman had been dumped into that pond—Spaulding, was she clothed when they found her body?”

  “No, sir. Nude. But no indication of sexual assault.”

  “So she was dumped nude into a shallow pond at night from a slow-moving helicopter. Why?”

  Will shook his head. “That’s been bothering me, too. Obviously, to dispose of the body, but maybe something more?”

  “If there’s a hog wallow on that farm, or if there are wallows on neighboring farms, and if the pilot had flown over this particular stretch of Alabama farmland before, then he might have thought that he was dropping that body into a hog wallow, not a pond. Right?”

  “Right. But why?”

  “To make the body disappear. The hogs would eat it—they’ll eat almost anything—and the bones would sink into the mud. It might be years before anyone noticed. If ever.”

  “That’s disgusting. but it makes total sense. And—this was the first abduction, or at least the first that we’re aware of. Maybe, after the body was found, whoever’s doing this decided to find another, better, way to dispose of bodies.”

  Davis said, “You should fly over those farms, at night. Check the phase of the moon and match it with the night the body was dropped. Fly low and see if there are other farms nearby with hog wallows.”

  “I’ll do that, sir.”

  “Are there any leads, any at all?”

  “One in the Coe murder. The victim was married, at one time, to an enlisted mechanic from this base. Her child, however, was conceived out-of-wedlock, and the father was an aviator. He disappeared over Afghanistan about ten years ago. His mother is a big deal in Dothan. When Sharon disappeared, the grandmother was trying to get custody of the child. She’s a suspect.”

  “What’s her name, Spaulding?”

  “Idelle Richardson.”

  “I know that name. Is she the widow of J.J. Richardson? Major General Richardson?”

  “If J.J. stands for Jefferson Jackson, then I believe she is, sir.”

  “I’ve met her, a time or two, in my salad days. She was much younger than J.J. and quite beautiful. And well-connected in the community, as I recall.”

  “Sir, she is a suspect in a murder investigation. I must remind you that this is confidential information. We are developing evidence, but as yet all we have is circumstantial.”

  “But she couldn’t possibly have abducted our three aviators, could she?”

  “Not by herself. But...”

  “Maybe she had help?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Richardson stood up and Will leaped to his feet. “Keep me informed, Will. And go out one night soon and fly over that farm.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you getting in any flying time?”

  “Aside from going to Montgomery to pick up Mr. Chelmin, not yet.”

  “Don’t forget what I told you, Spaulding.”

  “No, sir, I haven’t. But I have a question: Suppose I have to fly somewhere, on investigation business, that isn’t a US military base?”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the Secret Service office in Huntsville. Or the FBI Crime Lab in Quantico.”

  “Ah. Thinking ahead, or do you have a lead?”

  “I don’t want to go into operational details, but the Coe kidnapping/murder may have something to do with an illicit gambling casino. One of our agents went there and came back with several hundred-dollar bills that might be counterfeit—we need to show the Secret Service. To keep the chain of custody intact, they’ll send someone. But that will be in a week or two. I’d like to keep things moving. CID can
expense a taxi and local travel, but we have no budget for JP6 jet fuel. ”

  “Ask Lieutenant Cho for a fuel credit card.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “Will, check in with Captain Johnstone every couple of days, and keep him briefed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “One more thing, Spaulding: I’m counting on you to find our missing pilots, Will. This is personal now—I flew with Lopez.”

  Chapter 48

  Before returning to CID, Will went to the meteorology office at Cairns Field and got one of the senior sergeants to pull weather charts for the previous August 23rd. He learned that sunset was at 1923 hours and the moon rose after 2100. As it happened, lighting conditions would be similar at 1900 on the present day.

  Instead of checking his Lakota out, he returned to CID and asked Chelmin for permission to lay on a Blackhawk helicopter and pilot for 1900 that evening.

  “General Davis suggested that I look at the farm where Sharon Coe’s body was found from the air, and tonight’s visual conditions will be similar to the night her body was dumped.”

  “But why do you need a pilot?”

  Will frowned. “As It told you, I don’t want Ash, and hence the rest of the office, to know that I’m an aviator.”

  Chelmin said, “What’s that about, Will?”

  “Two things. These are very smart people. The minute they know that I’m a pilot, they’ll connect me with the Pensacola rescue.”

  “So what?”

  “So, I don’t want to have to explain myself. I don’t want to spend any more time talking about that. And I don’t want to be regarded as a superhero, or a guy with a death wish. That’s not helpful to what we’re trying to do here.”

  Chelmin nodded his understanding. “You said there was a second reason?”

  “I think that if Ash knew that I had worked exactly one CID case before this one, she might alter her opinion of me. I’d have to earn her respect all over again—assuming that I’ve earned it now. Partners must trust and respect each other.”

  “So she’s never to know?”

  “I’ll tell her. And sooner rather than later, but at a time of my choosing. And then I’d ask her not to share the information as long as I’m around this office.”

  “Got it. Lay on the bird. Maybe I’ll go with you.”

  “Fine, but I want Ash along, and I want her to ride in the front seat.”

  Chapter 49

  “Tell me again, what are we looking for?” said Ash from her front-seat perch.

  Will said, “A hog waller big enough to lose a body in.”

  Ash giggled. “A hog waller. You’ve gone native!”

  Chelmin said, “It’s getting dark. Hard to see terrain features.”

  Ash said. “Just like it was last August.”

  The pilot broke in on the intercom. “Exactly where are we going, sir?”

  Will said, “I’d like you to fly over downtown Dothan at about 4,000 feet, then take up a heading of 170 degrees toward Hodgeville. And once we’re clear of the town, descend to the FAA training minimum.”

  “Roger, 500 feet.”

  Will said, “When you’re at altitude, slow to twenty knots indicated and look for a shallow pond or hog wallow. Some small, still, body of water that reflects the sky.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the pilot, a captain, causing Chelmin to turn and wink at Will.

  Ten minutes later, having descended low over the darkening farmland south of Dothan, the aircraft slowed to little more than a hover.

  “There’s one—ten o’clock,” said Ash.

  The pilot broke in. “Another one, very small, at eleven o’clock.”

  “I’ve got one at three o’clock,” said Chelmin.

  Ash said, “Wait, there’s another one. And one more.”

  The pilot said, “They’re all over. Looks like every one of these farms has one.”

  Will said, “Well, some of them, far as I could tell on Google Earth, are fish ponds. But the fact has been established—whoever dropped Sharon Coe in a fish pond might easily have thought it was a hog wallow.”

  “What’s next?” said the pilot.

  Will said, “Grab some sky and let’s go home. We found what we came for.”

  As the Blackhawk climbed, turning left as it gained altitude, Ash said, “We’re gonna have to search all those ponds and wallows. It’s an impossible job.”

  “I think the farmers might do it,” Chelmin said. “We’ll get the Farm Service Agency—that’s part of the Agriculture Department—to have their county offices contact all local farmers with fish ponds or hog wallows. Anyone who raises hogs, actually. The farmers go out now and then muck those things out with a backhoe, clean out some of the feces. If there are any remains, they’ll find them.”

  Ash said, “How do we keep that out of the press?”

  Will said, “We ask Sheriff Taliaferro to put it out that there’s a missing person, and we got a tip that he might have fallen into one of those ponds or wallows. That’s two sentences in the local papers.”

  Ash said, “You’re smarter than you look, Spaulding.”

  Chapter 50

  Eight minutes later, after the pilot had shut down the engines and the rotor whined to a stop, the three passengers unstrapped and stepped down to the concrete landing pad.

  As Will turned to leave, the pilot called in a low voice.

  “Mr. Spaulding, a word?”

  Will walked back to the aircraft and went around to the pilot’s open door. He jumped down and approached Will.

  “You’re an aviator,” he said in a low voice, his face neutral. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought so. Just the way you spoke to me. Then I’d say that you must be the guy who rescued that kid down in Pensacola, right?”

  “With respect Captain, I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “They grounded you?”

  Will shook his head. “Not at all. Before I joined the Army, I was a police detective. I’m detailed now to work with the CID—I’m undercover. These agents don’t know about my recent history, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “I won’t say anything. The only reason that I stopped you was to shake your hand. That was the hairiest bit of flying I’ve ever seen or heard about. Come the day, I hope that I’d have the gonads to even try pulling that off, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t. Well done, Mr. Spaulding.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “And next time you want a helicopter joy ride,” the captain shouted at the top of his lungs, “you better pray to God that I’m not your pilot. Now get the hell out of here.”

  Will’s mouth flew open.

  The pilot winked and walked away.

  §

  “What was that about?” said Ash, as Will got into her car.

  Will shook his head. “He thought that this expedition was a poor use of his time and the helicopter. He thinks we could have learned what we needed to know by looking at aerial photos or Google Earth, which he knew that I had. I tried to explain that it was the low-level, low-light experience that I was looking for, but he didn’t want to hear it. Apparently, he had plans for the evening.”

  Chelmin said, “He’ll get over it. I’ll handle any complaints from the chain of command.”

  Will said, “Great. Now, who wants to help me eat a steak dinner at the O Club?”

  Chapter 51

  Ash sipped from her second cup of the morning’s coffee, looked around the conference room table, and said, “According to the county property tax database, Idelle Richardson’s house is owned by a Delaware corporation called WD Services. The house immediately east of hers is owned by a Puerto Rico-based corporation, I-D Associates. The one to the west is owned by Roscoe and Maryanne Coulter, who have lived there since 1978. And the one across the alley and immediately east is owned by a Mississippi firm called G&C LTD. According to corporate filings with those three states, all three corporations are wholl
y-owned subsidiaries of Northwest Asia Adventures, LTD, incorporated in the Cayman Islands. The Caymans do not disclose corporate ownership. And, there is no construction permit on file for any of the three houses since they were each built in the 1950s.”

  Landon said, “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”

  Will said, “I think we should bring in another agency. Treasury, maybe, or ATF.”

  Chelmin said, “Hold on. All we have right now is an illegal gambling den, which is state jurisdiction. Possibly a few other state violations, if they don’t have a liquor license, for example. The county sheriff could bust that place, but if she’s smart, she’ll go to the Alabama Law Enforcement Agency—that’s the state’s umbrella law-enforcement outfit—about ten or twelve agencies. Let them have the bust. Once Idelle Richardson is in custody, no telling what she’d say if it looks like she’s going to prison and her grandson will become a ward of the state. Get her to roll on the gambling honchos, and then maybe we can get them to roll on her for the murder.”

  Ash shook her head, no. “That’s a lot of ifs and maybes. How does that get us closer to finding our missing airmen?”

  Chelmin said, “It might. If Richardson is involved in Coe’s murder, and IF that is linked to our missing airmen. But we don’t have a basis for a federal complaint.”

  Will said, “Let’s hold off on this for a bit. One of those two SUVs could surface again. Maybe tonight. Then we’ll know more.”

  Ash interrupted. “If we had traffic cams on all the gates, we could take pictures of all SUVs that match our suspect profile, and get their tag and base sticker number.”

  Will said, “That’s genius.”

  Chelmin said, “I’ll go see Colonel Moffett.”

  Will said, “In the meantime, if we want to keep this federal, there’s always a chance that at least one of those hundreds is counterfeit.”

  Chelmin said, “I called Huntsville and the Secret Service says it could be two weeks before they get around to sending someone. And they don’t want us to ship the notes FedEx. Chain of custody issues.”