A Conspiracy Uncovered

by Lindsay Downs

  “Okay and we’d better get going. Don’t think we want to be late for the first meeting,” my wife said.

  My wife handed me the keys so that I could drive this time. The Grand Bar was located a few blocks south and with the help of a large sign on the corner of the street we had no trouble finding it. We parked close to the door and stepped in. The place was quiet so we chose to sit in the corner so we could watch the room from our table.

  Looking over the menu, I salivated at the selection. Steaks with a variety of sauces from buttery mushroom to New Orleans spicy. Pasta with seafood and creamy alfredo. Burgers stuffed with cheese, piled high with French fried onions, pickles and special sauce. This place was quickly becoming my favorite restaurant and my stomach was growling in hunger. Our waitress walked up to take our drink orders, which was easy. I ordered iced tea for us as June walked in with a man, who had to be her husband but didn’t look anything like him.

  “I never would have guessed that he’s your twin.”

  The waitress had just brought our drinks when the door swung open and a man wearing a cap pulled low on his forehead strolled in. He spotted us and headed our direction.

  “Richard, of all the places in the world to run into you, this is the last place I would expect to find you and your wife,” he said.

  Even though I’d never met this person before, his manner of speaking, not using contractions and the faintest hint of either an English or Australian accent told me I was looking at and being addressed by the mysterious Mr. X. I said the first thing that came to my mind. “I know, Walter. What are you doing here? Last I knew you were in some country in Africa working for the Peace Corps. Want to join us, we are about to order? If you haven’t eaten, that is?” I said, hoping I wasn’t making a fool of myself.

  “I would love to if your wife doesn’t object?”

  “Not at all. I’d love to hear about your time in Africa. Please join us.”

  He sat accepting the menu from me since I’d already chosen what I was having.

  We ordered and the waitress left then we got down to business. All the while I was studying our guest, but he didn’t give the appearance of dying from cancer. At least from what I had seen in the past.

  “What do we call you? Mr. X won’t work.” I, in lowered voice, asked.

  “Actually, you got my first name right. My real name is Walter Johnson. Before you ask, I do live in Lavina. I make custom cabinets, chairs, tables, and other pieces of fine furniture. I’m still doing that since working with my hands helps to take my mind off the cancer. My doctor thinks that I’ll be able to continue for a little while longer before the disease inhibits my ability to work.”

  “Don’t the people here know you?”

  “Not really. There are shops where I live that supply everything I need for the most part. Occasionally, I drive over to Billings for things I can’t get in Lavina.”

  “For what you are going to be telling Nancy and myself places like here won’t work. Also, but with your permission we’d like to tape record our sessions?”

  “Your motel room or my house. Whichever one you choose is fine. I think the second one would be the best because I have papers and other things to show you. And yes, you can take them with you and record me.”

  “Thank you. Is there any chance you can give us a hint at what you’ll be showing us?”

  “Timetables. How Oswald was selected to be set up and take the fall? Who helped me? Where they might be now? What they did? The only thing I don’t have is who the power was behind the assassination. In other words, who was giving the orders and paid us.”

  “That’s all right. Over time we should be able to figure that out. The Dean & Dean Detective Agency is excellent at what they do.”

  “That is why I sent you the box and Miss Alice Dean the letter.”

  “Speaking of her, she is having one of her best detectives looking into Mr. York. If he is alive, they will move him and his family someplace safe. What excuse this person will use, we have no idea.”

  “That is appreciated.”

  “When we know something so will you.”

  I came close to telling him that we weren’t alone but at the last second decided not to. We need him to trust us completely before we let him know Thomas and June are here and keeping an eye on us.

  “Thank you.”

  “As you know, we’re both professors not private investigators so if we seem a little clumsy at times please forgive us. We plan to treat this exactly like we did with our dissertations and the questioning which followed. When you answer one of our queries, we might stop you so you can clarify a point. Do you understand?”

  “I do. Tell you the truth, I’m finally glad to get this all out.”

  I paid the bill then the three of us walked out.

  In the parking lot, Walter gave us directions to his house. We said goodbye until eight-thirty tomorrow morning.

  We drove back to the hotel in silence. Once we were inside the room, I wasted no time before sitting down and writing notes only stopping when a knock came on the door. I let Thomas and June inside and we gathered to discuss what Walter had shared with us.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  November 23, 1983

  During the drive over to meet with Walter, Nancy and I started working on the questions we’d be asking him. Earlier at breakfast, Thomas and June said they would be following us, but at a distance, then find a place to park where they can keep an eye on the house.

  The first, and maybe the most important piece of information we wanted to know was specifically how Walter was recruited to carry out the assassination. After that, at what point was he told the target and his reaction finding out he was going to be shooting the president.

  At Walter’s driveway we climbed out, with me carrying the bag holding the tape recorder and blank tapes along with a pad of legal paper and several pins, as he came around from the back of his house. I was encouraged because he was smiling.

  “Morning, Walter.” I shook his hand, appreciating his firm grip.

  “I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the house?”

  “Not at all. You have a lovely home,” Nancy told him.

  “Thank you. You wouldn’t believe the condition of the place when I bought it. I have before pictures which I can show you later if you’d like. That way you will be able to see the transformation.”

  “We would love to look at them. Maybe when we take a break. I say that because on advice from my family they recommend we work for an hour then step away for fifteen to twenty minutes.”

  “In that case, shall we get to work? Do you mind if we talk in my workshop? I have a reproduction Chippendale chair to finish and prepare for shipping.”

  “Not at all. I hope you won’t be using power tools because that will make recording our conversation difficult.”

  “No. Depending on the piece and time period I make the furniture using only the tools available at that time. Come on I will show you what I mean.”

  Nancy and I followed Walter to a building painted barn red with white for the trim. Walking in I was amazed at the interior. From what I could tell this place could be used year around especially with the three pot-bellied stoves equally spaced down the center line. The ceiling ten feet from the ground covered the area. Not the hay loft type I’d seen photographs of. Leading to the upper floor were several staircases and a large hinged door, I was guessing to allow pieces of wood to be lowered down.

  There were very few power tools and many hand woodworking instruments, including saws, drills and chisels. Even what looked like a foot powered lathe. Nancy and I followed him over to a worktable with several stools tucked underneath.

  From the bag I took out the recorder and inserted a tape. After about a minute of silence I turned the recorder on and followed the instructions given to me by Thomas.

  “Tape number 1. Date November 23, 1983. Time 8:45am. Interview with Walter Johnson. Location unknown. Walter, how and specificall
y when and where were you approached?”

  “On September 15, 1963 I was in England, having returned there for two reasons. First, to bury my parents who had died in a traffic accident. Secondly, I was attempting to forget what I witnessed while serving in the Australian Army. I was in Sutton on Sea staying at the Bacchus Hotel enjoying a pint when a Yank took a seat on the bench beside me.”

  I held up my hand to stop him. “How did you know he was an American?”

  “I heard him ask for American whiskey. If you simply request whiskey you get Scotch and hardly ever with ice. Anyways, we talked for a few minutes. He was interested in my past in the Army and wondered if I planned to return to Australia. I told him no, I was staying in England.”

  “Walter, if you’re from Australia why did your parents die in England? Were they visiting?” Nancy inquired.

  “No, they were English who had met in Melbourne during World War 2. I was born there so I became a citizen. Before I went into the Army they returned home. My plan had been to join them when my service was over. Due to my wound I was discharged earlier than I had expected. Soon afterwards I got word my parents had died.”

  “And you had planned to remain there, in England, for the rest of your life?”

  “Yes, to continue to make furniture as my father had. That’s who I learned the trade from. Anyways, back to answering your question. We talked for a few more minutes then he left. About ten minutes later I realized I was out of cigarettes, so I headed to the tobacconist across the street. When I walked out of the hotel the same American approached me. He asked if I’d like to make one million dollars. Trust me, I was astounded by the offer because I knew that would be more money than I could make in a dozen lifetimes.”

  “Wait, didn’t you think that was strange. The man you’d only met once before asked you that question?” Nancy asked.

  “Yes, but like so many people at the time, especially over here, I had become disillusioned with the war in Vietnam and really didn’t care what happened to me.”

  “So, what did you tell this man?”

  Considering the amount he was willing to pay me I figured if I was going to be killing someone that person had to be very important, so I asked. His reply was “a very famous person”. I said “sure”. The man told me I’d learn who later and once I started there was no going back.”

  “At what point did you learn you were going to assassinate President Kennedy?”

  “Not until the beginning of November 1963. By then I was totally committed and couldn’t turn away. In my group we started with ten and ended up with myself and four others. What happened to the other five, I do not have any idea. My guess, they were all taken someplace and executed. But like I said, that is only conjecture on my part.”

  Glancing at my watch I realized we’d been at this for a while so I suggested a break.

  “You can show me the before pictures of the house.”

  I turned off the recorder and put in a new tape.

  While Nancy and I walked around the large workshop examining some of the pieces he’d made Walter took down a photo album from a bookcase.

  “Nancy, here are the pictures.”

  We returned to the workbench and started flipping through the pages. The ones of the house were unbelievable. If I didn’t know better a strong wind could have collapsed the building into a pile of kindling. The ones of the barn weren’t much better.

  “How long did you work on the house before the town let you live there?”

  “About six months, Richard, of working seven days a week from dawn to dusk. I handled the framing first to make sure the house would not collapse. Then the exterior and finally room by room starting with the kitchen so I would not have to cook over an open fire in the winter.”

  This man was a walking enigma. From soldier to assassin to house and barn restorer to master furniture craftsman. All I had to my credit was years of study to become a full professor. Yes, I’ve written many well received scholarly books but that didn’t compare to what Walter had done. If I could finally put this one case to rest and prove myself and everyone else wrong, then I’ll chalk that up as a win.

  “Richard, you’re awfully quiet all of a sudden?”

  “Sorry, just thinking about something.”

  From her frown obviously she knew I was lying. Later and in the privacy of our motel room she’d ask again, and I’ll tell her the truth.

  “Why don’t we get back to work,” Nancy suggested.

  I turned the recorder on and dictated the information only changing the time and tape number.

  “Walter, how did you get from England to where you met the others?”

  “In seconds after agreeing to kill this unknown individual a cloth bag was put over my head. My hands were cuffed in front of me which I thought strange and put into a lorry. Sorry van. Every so often I tend to revert to using British or Australian terms. I was given a shot which knocked me out. For how long I do not have any idea. When I came to, we were in a very large plane. That’s when they took the hood off. If I wasn’t mistaken, they had me and three other men in a C-130. I say that because I had flown in one in South Vietnam.”

  “Were you able to look out the windows?” Nancy asked.

  “No. Not that we did not want to but could not. They were covered over with metal. A man wearing a mask came and gave us bags of food and beer which was horrible.”

  “Must have been one of the American brands,” I teased.

  “Yes. Budweiser. Took some time but I eventually got used to what you Yanks call beer. If you want really good stout go to England.”

  “Thanks for the advice but neither my husband nor I are really that big into alcohol. Moving on. Eventually you landed, then what happened?”

  “Before the ramp was lowered the hoods where put back on. We were led off the plane and into another van. That was when I thought we might be in the American west, because of the heat. We ended up being driven someplace and then instructed to take the bags off. For the first time I was able to get a good look at my new surroundings. A deserted military base. Even though I’d never been to one here in the states I knew that was where we were. Lots of buildings in different stages of collapsing except for what turned out to be ours. This one had been renovated. Private bedrooms and bathrooms. Lounge and fully stocked kitchen. These people even had several chefs, so we didn’t have to cook.”

  So far, he has given us some very valuable information and possibly didn’t even know that. The C-130 and military base somewhere in the western US. To have access to those items takes not only a huge amount of money but political pull.

  “That would make sense so you and the others can concentrate on the job at hand. How soon after arriving did the training start?”

  “The next morning we were introduced to the instructors. Two were Russian. This I know because of their accent. I along with the others thought they might have served in the Spetsnaz because of some of the training they gave us. One Israeli. He specialized in hand to hand combat. Three Americans with one from a southern state.”

  “How did you find out what your particular duty was going to be?” Nancy said.

  “Right after that. I and two others were selected to start training by firing different rifles. Also, how quickly we could disassemble and reassemble them. One was a Mannlicher-Carcano 6.5mm. Serial number C2766. Yes, Richard and Nancy that’s the exact same number as the one found in the Texas School Book Depository. There was also a Remington, Winchester, Mosin-Nagant, and Mauser rifle.”

  “Walter, from what you’re saying, the people who hired you had great intelligence. Let me guess, the rifle you used was the one you practiced with?” I asked.

  “Yes. That’s why the vinyl gloves of Oswald’s fingerprints so they would be transferred to the weapon and boxes.”

  We’d been questioning Walter for over four hours when I noticed he tried to hide a yawn. I got the feeling he wanted to keep going but we needed to rest, even if only for a littl
e while.

  “That makes sense if you wanted to pin the assassination on him. Let’s break for lunch then afterwards only continue for an hour or so. You’ve already given Nancy and I a great deal of valuable information and we don’t want to tire you out.”

  “Alright. The beef stew should be ready by now. We do have a bar and grill in town, but while we eat I want to show you some of the papers I was able to save.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  From the moment I walked into the Grand Bar & Restaurant then introduced myself to Richard and Nancy they immediately made me feel comfortable. What I found most interesting neither of them looked like full, tenured professors. At least not compared to the ones I’d seen back in Australia or England.

  To begin with, they seemed much too young for their positions at the university. Then there was the fact Richard’s face, especially around his eyes, didn’t appear to have spent hundreds of hours squinting at books or news articles so he would be able to contradict supposed learned individual, about the Kennedy or any other famous person’s assassinations. The same held true for his wife, Nancy.

  What amazed me, sitting in this restaurant was the way they were dressed casually. I wouldn’t have been able to pick them out from any local resident if I hadn’t seen his photograph on many book jackets.

  This morning while I was waiting for them, I had to force myself to concentrate on the piece of furniture I was contracted to build. My biggest worry, what questions would they ask. What I did know, no matter the query I had to answer them fully and in as much detail as I could.

  Hearing a car pull into the driveway I took a breath then stepped out of the barn. I walked over to them as a vehicle slowed and the driver looked toward my guests and me. He was the spitting image of Richard. I recognized the passenger from last night so I knew they weren’t a danger to me.

  Richard suggested we take a break for lunch. While I was putting away the few tools I had used earlier one of their first questions slipped back into my mind. That had been, how had I been approached to participate in a secret mission?