by Richard Neer
“How did you know I was researching the Pretender? Did the poet in his heart tip you off?”
I hoped he’d get the line from Fleetwood Mac’s Sara and figure out who I was talking about. He didn’t.
I elaborated. “Stevie Nicks was one of his paramours. You know that much. I don’t hold that against him. She was a Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress.”
Now I was dragging the Hollies into the mix, with the line ‘working for the FBI’.
He finally caught on. “Stevie wore black dresses and she’s cool as can be, but I wouldn’t call her long. She’s kind of short. Never actually quit the band like some of the others did.”
I took that to mean that Sarah Bernstein was working undercover for the feds. Whether she was still drawing a check or just being a good citizen, she was keeping an eye on Black and McCann.
“Yeah, she wasn’t much good at hanging around but that girl could sing. I like that song about drowning in the Sea of Love. But I’m not sure exactly what it means.”
“I think she means don’t get in too deep or you might regret it. How’s Jaime, by the way?”
“Don’t know. We haven’t talked since the last little episode I told you about. Apparently her dad’s on death’s doorstep.”
“That’s too bad. I always liked Peterson’s books, although he made the FBI the villain too often in his later work. Always a crooked cop behind the crime. Sells books but it hurts our credibility. People tend to conflate fiction with the truth.”
It sounded like he was saying that there was a rogue agent or agents involved. “Well, thanks for the tip but I’m still interested in Jackson Browne. That Eagles’ documentary got me curious. I think he’s a fascinating character.”
“Look Riles, if you were to find out some things about his personal life and they were made public, his record company might void his contract. You know how sensitive they are these days about the way women are treated.”
“Come on Dan, you know me. Discretion is my middle name.” It was clear he was warning me off the Brand X affair but I shifted gears and wanted to know if the Townes case had similar pitfalls. “Hey, I’m looking into a cold case. Musician by the name of Colton Townes vanished one night in the Lowcountry forty years ago. Know anything about it?”
“Name is vaguely familiar but no, not really. Sounds interesting, an unsolved mystery. I’d suggest you focus on that and just enjoy Jackson’s music. Leave his personal affairs alone. I’d be happy to help on that Townes situation if we have anything in the archives.”
He was offering a proverbial quid pro quo. You leave the Brand X affair alone and I’ll help you out on the Townes case. Dan and I have an informal balance sheet. I help him, he helps me. As long as one of us isn’t too deeply in arrears to the other, the arrangement works.
I said, “Sounds good. But tell me, just to satisfy my curiosity. Is what you’re implying about Browne a career ender? Is it that serious if the wrong people find out?”
“Depends. He’s not a big seller now, but if one of the higher-ups on his label gets paranoid about the optics of the situation, they’d blow him away without a second thought. Might also reflect badly on Stevie. Merry Christmas, Riles. Talk soon.”
23
I wasn’t sure if Kat or Sarah would be at the restaurant. It turned out I got a 2-fer. Both were there, but were “in the back”. I took that to mean the kitchen, but there also might be a small office where the bookkeeping gets done.
I didn’t see the gain in letting Sarah know she’d been ‘outed’ by Dan Logan. If indeed someone other than he was pulling her strings, it might put him in a bad position. If the opportunity presented, I would let her know I was on to her, but I’d make it appear it was ace detective work on my part, not a coded tip from Dan-o.
Ginn got to the restaurant five minutes after I did. I had already ordered and the tiramisu was on the table. As I sipped my cappuccino, I got his grunt of approval and he proceeded to dig in like a man who’d been shopping all morning on an empty stomach. As he made short work of the dessert, I told him about Arliss and he gave me a one sentence account of his shopping expedition with Tomey.
I said, “So, you’re not going to tell me what you guys got me for Christmas?”
“Thought we agreed not to exchange gifts, 5-0. I did notice that someone was rooting through our closet a few days ago. Wanting to see if Alex or me lacked a particular item of clothing?”
“Are you accusing me of violating your privacy? Heaven forbid. It was probably Anna, just hanging up some clothes you two left strewn around in the heat of passion.”
“The cleaning lady? Huh. Leastways you didn’t blame Bosco.”
“On to business. When you’re finished with your dessert, unless you want seconds, I want to double team Jim Bolton.”
“What do you want me to do, other than look scary?”
“Interject your keen insights into the mix. And look scary.”
“Yes, sir boss. Having a fine strapping buck by your side always works to intimidate them old white folks. But why not hit up Dugger first? Imagine the sight of me would really put that racist bastard off his game.”
“That’s next. I’m thinking Bolton has more to lose and he’ll cave quicker. We know that Bolton set up the cover story about Dugger being AWOL from his post that night. Dugger insisted he wasn’t doing Mrs. Paulsen at the time and she confirmed that.”
“If her husband already knew they were doing the thing, she got nothing to lose so I s’pose she’s telling the truth. Thing is, somebody’s hiding something. Why make an alibi if you don’t need one? You’d think if Dugger killed Townes, he’d go along with the story he was doing the old lady at the time.”
“She wasn’t so old then and even now, she looks great for her age.”
“Too bad she’s married, there’d be hope for you. Hey, here comes your date from the other night and she be smokin’.”
Indeed, Sarah Bernstein looked the part of a hostess with the mostest. Most FBI agents, male and female, have no fashion sense, but Sarah wore a sleeveless dress that clung to her toned body in all the right places, of which there were many. She is the first woman under forty I’ve seen lately that doesn’t have a mass of tattoos crawling up her arms. Why mess with perfection?
She said, “Riley. Hi, Mr. Ginn. I didn’t know you were coming in this afternoon. I’ll let Kat know you’re here. She’s working on new dishes.”
“No, don’t bother her, Sarah. We’re leaving in a minute. We were in the neighborhood and Moses had to have tiramisu. I’m afraid he’s hooked.”
“There are worse things to be hooked on. I love it too but I have to maintain my girlish figure.”
Begging for a compliment? With most women, I would have lobbed one their way, but Sarah wasn’t most women.
Ginn read my mind. “Before we head off, I need to make a pit stop. A pleasure to see you again, Ms. Bernstein.”
What a gentlemanly farewell. So out of character, he’d never hear the end of it from me. Ginn sauntered off to the men’s room and I gestured for Sarah to sit for a moment. She obliged.
I said, “Sarah, I’ve been thinking about the other night.”
“So have I. Maybe next time we can go back to my place for a nightcap.”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about your warning to drop the questions about Brand X. I just wanted to tell you I’m not going to look into it any further. But make no mistake. I know who you are and what you’re doing. I’ve really taken a liking to Jason and Kat and I want them to be safe.”
“As do I.”
“So you say. I know how it works in DC. I just want you to know that if anything happens to them, you’re the first person I’ll be coming for.”
“My my, that sounds like a threat. And we had such great chemistry going.”
“It’s not a threat. These are good people. I don’t know exactly what they got themselves caught up in and like I told you, I’m not looking to find out right now. You
seem like a nice kid. But be careful you don’t get caught up in someone’s warped agenda and do something you’ll regret. There always is some of that going around. It’s one of the reasons I quit.”
“I’m not with the Bureau anymore. I’m a private citizen, learning the restaurant trade. Kat and Jason are good friends. I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to make sure no harm comes to them.”
She got up to leave. “Take care, Riley. That nightcap offer stands, whenever you’re ready.”
~~~~~
We left Ginn’s Molly-mobile behind at the restaurant and took my car to see Bolton.
The former sheriff came to his door dressed for golf, but it was unlikely he would have been out on the links on such a cold day. He had a lofted iron in his hand, which I took to be a prop, much like the late comedian Bob Hope toted around. It also could come in handy as a weapon if the Holy Rollers got too aggressive or if someone Bolton had put away had revenge on his mind. Or if a snoopy detective asked the wrong questions.
Bolton didn’t look too surprised to see Ginn and me. “King. Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but I assumed you’d call if you had any more questions. And I didn’t know you had a driver.”
He immediately realized he might have offended Ginn and stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Jim Bolton. And you are?”
“The name’s Ginn. Moses Ginn.”
I half expected him to perform our old cowboy ritual of adding, “My friends call me Moses. You can call me Mr. Ginn,” but he squelched the sarcasm. Or saved it for later. As it was, he accepted the proffered hand but squeezed it a little too firmly.
I said, “Sorry to pop in announced, but we were in the area and I did have some more questions. Have a few minutes?”
He smiled, both cold and welcoming at the same time. “My time is your time, King. Come in. Like a drink?”
“No, we’re good.”
He led us to his family room, which was adjacent to the kitchen. We followed his gesture to sit.
He said, “I’m sure you’re wondering about the get-up. I have a golf simulator in the FROG room.”
Ginn was puzzled. “Frog room? You keep ‘em as pets?”
Bolton laughed. “Finished room over garage. My wife is a real estate agent. I foolishly assume everyone knows the expression, but obviously not.”
I was glad Moses had asked first. That way I could pretend to know what a ‘FROG’ room was. Although it did seem that the word ‘room’ was redundant. Finished room over garage room?
I asked, “Is your wife home?”
“No, she’s out previewing houses. She’s very thorough. Likes to know everything she can before presenting them to prospective buyers. Saves her a lot of time. Keeps her from showing unsuitable properties.” He cleared his throat and wiggled the golf club “Now gentlemen, what can I do for you?”
“I’ll get right to the point. I know about you and the Brandos.”
“Brandos? I know a Tim and of course there was Marlon, but I’m not sure what you mean.” He scratched his head theatrically, then tapped his forehead. “Don’t tell me you bought into that old wives’ tale about some secret society in the department?”
“Don’t waste our time denying it. I’ve had it confirmed from multiple sources. Look, I know you have to maintain deniability, but you covered your ass well. You fired Paul Dugger, the ringleader.”
Bolton shifted his feet and might have considered braining me with his seven iron had Ginn not been there.”
“Listen King, I don’t know what you think you know. Dugger was a bad cop. But he had backing in the department. I got rid of him as soon as I could. Looking back, yeah sure, I wish I did it sooner but there was politics involved.”
“Regardless, Dugger was assigned that stretch of road where they found the van. He should’ve driven past the wreck at least twice. He swears he never left his beat the night Townes disappeared. The woman in question confirmed it.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Well, she would, wouldn’t she? I remember, Mrs. Paulsen. Damn, I forget her first name. Anyway, I’m sure she’s gotta be getting on in years and wouldn’t want to admit sowing some wild oats in her younger days. Or whatever the female equivalent of that is.”
“Her name is Amy. No, she admitted the affair, quite openly. And her husband was aware of it, although you knew that, didn’t you?”
That threw him off for a second, but he recovered quickly. “How could she remember a night so from forty years ago? I must admit my recollection of those days is pretty foggy.”
Ginn said, “Not important how. My man checked out her story and it jibes with what Dugger told him.”
“Well, like I said, my recollection is a bit blurry. But whether Dugger was on duty or not, he swore he never saw Townes that night.”
I leaned in. “See, that’s my problem. If he didn’t see Townes, why the cover story? Why did you push Amy Paulsen into saying that Dugger was with her?”
“That was his story, not mine. That’s what he told me --- he was with a woman, and knowing what I did about him, I accepted it. So you spoke with him and now he’s changed his story, is that it? Told the truth, that he wasn’t with the woman.”
He shook his head slowly. “I told you Dugger was bent. If my boss started asking questions about why he didn’t notice a wreck if he was patrolling the area, the alibi would’ve been necessary. That must have been it. Would’ve gotten Paul Dugger in less trouble. It was his idea. I went along.”
“Dugger says you came up with the alibi idea and Amy Paulsen backs that up. She also says you used it to blackmail her husband from running for sheriff, a job you wanted.”
“She told you that? Does her husband know she said that?”
Ginn said, “He was sitting right there.”
Ginn was acting as if he were present when Black and I talked to the Paulsens, but was wise enough not to elaborate. The wrong word at the wrong moment would undermine our case.
Bolton pushed back his mane of white hair and grimaced. “Sad. Look, Jack Paulsen was a nice guy but truth is, he wasn’t sheriff material. He was weak. When he found out his wife cheated on him, he went into a tailspin. Drank too much. We were afraid he’d confront Dugger and make a scene in a public place. Bad PR for the department.”
“So it was better for him to just go away.”
“Sheriff Ross was a hell of a great human being. Appreciated the years and loyalty Paulsen gave to the force and gave him a nice severance check and a sterling recommendation. Against my advice, I might add.”
“Why? It eliminated a rival. Worked out just swell for you.”
“I worried it would blow back on the department if someone hired him and found out what a loser he was. My fears were unfounded, never heard anything about him after he left. Like I said, nice guy, weak cop.”
Ginn said, “I talked to a few of his fellow officers. They all said he was a great cop. Didn’t want to say nothing against you, but seemed like they thought he’d a made a fine sheriff.”
“Gentlemen, this is pointless. I was elected to six terms as County sheriff until I left on my own to pursue other interests. Whatever reason Paulsen gave you for why he accepted the buy-out, the truth is what I told you. Now if he’s bitter because he was afraid to stand before the voters back then and thinks he can smear me now, I won’t dignify that with a response. But I won those elections and I’m proud of my record.”
“Be that as it may,” I said, “the fact is you concocted a false alibi for Dugger the night Townes disappeared.”
I wasn’t sure if his outrage was manufactured or real, but his face turned mean as he said, “Just who do you think you are, coming in here, trying to intimidate me? You have no authority. You’re just a private dick with a less than first-rate reputation. You asked for my help finding out what happened to Townes. I was happy to oblige to the best of my knowledge. Now you start throwing around bullshit allegations about my career. Get out of my house.”
“You still haven’t t
old us why you covered this up if nothing happened. I’ll find out. If it reflects badly on you, so be it. You had a chance to come clean.”
“I’m afraid you have it backwards, King. You think you can intimidate me? I have well-placed friends who won’t look kindly on you if you persist in spreading these lies about me. Take that to the bank. Now get out.”
24
Ginn was incensed as we pulled up to Dugger’s cabin. “Never was one for flag burning, but I’m fixing to make an exception.”
The Confederate flag was flapping in the freshened breeze. Added to the sub freezing temperature, it felt as cold as it ever gets in the Lowcountry. The snowfall from a few nights ago had left a trace of white on Dugger’s discolored metal roof. Tin roof, rusted.
I said, “The flag means something different to him, he claims.”
“Means he’s a goddam racist to me and that’s all that counts.”
There was no pickup truck in the driveway or carport, so it was likely the man wasn’t home. Given Ginn’s anger, that was probably a good thing.
He said, “You didn’t tell ‘bout that flag on purpose, did ya? Wanted me to get all riled up when I saw it so’s I’d be ready to bash some heads.”
“You give me too much credit, my friend. But I did want to see how he’d react to you. If he’d really become more enlightened about race, like he tried to sell me.”
We walked onto the rickety porch, which was badly in need of paint. I knocked on the door and it yielded slightly. It was unlocked.
“Dugger. You in there?”
No reply.
“There’s smoke coming from the chimney,” Ginn said. “Dumb ass Johnny Reb can’t be gone for long, ‘less he’s stupider than we think.”
I eased the door open. “He’s got an insert in the fireplace, Mo. Slower burn and throws more heat. It’s pretty safe when untended.”
“What’re thinking, 5-0? We gonna camp out here and drink some of his beer waiting for him to get back? Jackass probably only has piss water in his icebox.”
