A Tale Of True Love

by Alexa Stewart

  OFFICER NICK MCNAMARA was in his office, at his desk, reading the lab report he’d just received on the Pastor Andrew Brown case. He was surprised by the results.

  They had found several latent finger prints on the lenses of the pastor’s wire rim glasses and they didn’t belong to the man who had died. They belonged to a person that was related to both suspects, but wasn’t under suspicion until now.

  The prints had survived all these years on the hard surface of the glass. In fact, prints had been known to last for over 40 years, depending on the substance on the hands, and the conditions of the find.

  The report stated that it was an exact match to Jed Conner. Was he the last person to see the pastor alive? With his prints on the glasses, he must have been the one to put the pastor’s body in the well.

  If he hadn’t killed him, he knew who did.

  Inquiries were started. What was the motive? Did he hide the body for his brother, or maybe his father? Several agents were assigned to tail him and to watch his activities.

  In subsequent weeks, one of the agents reported seeing Jed at the bar serve from an unlabeled bottle to those who knew how to ask for it. It was kept hidden under the bar. He was even seen selling jugs at the back door of the business. The agent made himself chummy with one of the patrons, and was able to obtain a drink. It tasted like high-proof distilled spirits… moonshine. Was this a motive? How long had he been serving it? Was he making it? Where was the still?

  Another agent, disguised as a hunter, tailed the suspect using his own rig one evening, out into the back woods, keeping his distance.

  He watched the man drive into the thick forest, over roads rarely used, to a bar gate with No Trespassing and No Hunting signs hanging from it. Unlocking it, Jed drove on after locking it again, vanishing into the woods over the overgrown, weedy, and untidy road.

  Cautiously the agent parked his rig further down the road, out of sight and then followed the suspect on foot.

  As the agent walked in, listening for sound, he wondered how far the road went as he looked around for cover if the suspect should appear. He eventually came to a small clearing, near a long abandoned mine. In the mining shack nearby, smoke rose from an old black stove pipe sticking through the wooden roof. Jed’s rig was parked next to the door.

  The agent looked around for concealment and a good vantage point to watch from. Once there, he took photos and documented the man’s every move.

  Before long, evening had descended and the agent cautiously drew closer to the shack. Standing hidden nearby, he pulled up his collar to keep warm as he watched the light leaking around the old curtains in the small window next to the door.

  Abruptly the door opened, flooding the area with light as Jed emerged with two large jugs and put them into the back of his rig under a tarp. The agent took photos. Jed went back in for more. They had found the still and Jed was the supplier. The agent left quickly, satisfied with the evidence he had gotten.

  Within a short time the police were ready. It was time to bring the suspect in. This was it. Would they be able to get a confession from of him?

  Jed acted the innocent as he was brought in, not sure why he was there. But you could see he was guarded and the tension showed in his jaw muscles as they flexed.

  Seated at the same table, across from the same officer his father had seen, Franklin Conner’s his son refused to make eye contact, looking down at the table’s surface.

  “Is your name Jedidiah Horace Conner?” Officer McNamara asked starting the recorded interview.

  “Yes,” the man answered sullenly.

  As before, he verified his personal information, including his address and family connections.

  “How well did you know Pastor Andrew Brown?”

  “He was just the pastor at our church, years ago.”

  “Did you like the man?”

  “What difference does that make?” he asked, irritated.

  “Answer the question.”

  “I didn’t care about him one way or the other,” was Jed’s reply.

  “Were you ever angry with him? Did you ever fight with the man?”

  “No! Of course not!”

  “What do you do for a living, Mr. Conner?”

  “I run the Dead Moose Bar & Grill.”

  “According to our records, you barely have enough money to keep that place open.”

  “So what? It’s a hard life out here. Everyone struggles to get by.”

  “Then how do you explain the new cars you’ve purchased over the years, one every two years or so. And the expensive clothes your wife wears, along with the trips you’ve taken. We have copies of receipts here of expensive jewelry that you’ve purchased. Where did you get the money?”

  Jed’s jaw twitched several times, then he stated, “My dad helps us out once in a while. There’s nothing mysterious about that.”

  “Are you sure you don’t have an extra form of income, Jed? You know we’ll ask your father to confirm all of this.”

  “What do you mean? What extra income?”

  Officer McNamara’s voice went cold, “From the still you‘ve hidden in the mountains,” he said dramatically as he threw the photos of Jed stocking his truck with the illegal liquor. “Do you deny making hard liquor for distribution?”

  Jed went pale, his jaw fixed, his hands clinched in fear. What could he say? He was caught.

  Nick McNamara’s voice went colder, if possible, “Is this why you killed Pastor Brown?”

  Jed finally looked up at the man in shock.

  “You’re crazy! I haven’t killed anyone!”

  “Then explain to me how your fingerprints got on his glasses the day he died!” demanded the officer as he placed the photo of the glasses down in front of Jed.

  Jed’s heart stopped.

  The glasses! You fool! You stupid idiot! Why didn’t you wipe them off before tossing them in the well?

  Sweating and ringing his hands, he tried to think of a reason, but none would come to him that would free him from the involvement in the man’s death.

  Why couldn’t they stay hidden with the body in the depths of the earth? After all this time! I thought I’d never see them again. Why did that kid have to fall in there?

  Jed was visibly trembling now, his breathing rapid, his heart pounding as he looked at the photo of the glasses. They stood witness to his desperate deed so long ago.

  “What happened, Jed? Did Pastor Brown stumble onto your still and you had to take care of him? Keep him from talking? Did you strike him over the head?”

  “No! No… it was an accident! I though he saw me over at the Rockland place, coming out of the root cellar with some jugs. I saw him walking away, and I felt sure he’d seen me. When I confronted him, he said he didn’t know what I was talking about. Told me he was deep in thought. I called him a liar and he tried to talk to me. But I was afraid of what he’d do. I was yelling at him and the man was trying to talk to me. I just pushed him… just pushed and he tripped and fell, hitting his head on a rock among the blackberries. I didn’t mean to kill him. I had just opened the bar and we were struggling. I had learned to make the stuff in the Army. It was an accident, pure and simple,” he cried in panic.

  “But you did push him, Jed, causing his death by assault. That’s manslaughter in this state. And hiding the body only adds to your crimes, including the years of illegal distribution of hard liquor and tax evasion. The Feds are working on a case against you as we speak. I think you’d better get a hold of a lawyer.”

  Jed covered his face, trying to hide from the events that were crashing down on him, crushing him. Retribution for what he had done was coming and he feared to face it.

  He hadn’t been doing anything really bad. It had been an accident. He didn’t mean for the man to die, but he had.

  Jed could see everything he cared about slipping away from him. He wondered what Megs was going to say, and the children? What was going to happen to them? What was going to happen to his bu
siness? He sat there, realizing he had lost it all and would probably spend the rest of his life in prison. How could he face it? Grief started to overwhelm him.

  After booking him, Officer McNamara told the guards to post a watch. They didn’t want him committing suicide on them.

 

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