by W L Ripley
“I see one matching the description,” Jake said, looking across the lot. “But that can’t be it.” He pointed at a red Dodge near the back of the lot.
Buddy stared at it. “Man, it looks like it.” They walked towards it. “Yeah, that’s it, but shit.”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “The damage isn’t extensive. How could that cause the injuries described?”
“I didn’t even know he drowned until you told me,” Buddy said. “I did some checking and the official version is Gage ran off the bridge, got out of the car and passed out face down in the water. Said that’s how they found him, face down in the creek. Told you. Kellogg kept me in the dark.”
“Travis wasn’t with him.”
“The dog?” said Buddy. “What makes you say that?”
Jake stared at the car for a long time, hands on his hips, before saying,
“You should’ve followed things up, Buddy.”
“Yeah? And you shoulda showed up at the funeral. Don’t come at me like that, Jake. I love you but that won’t keep me from holding you upside down over a toilet.”
“Someone could’ve called me.”
“You didn’t stay in touch. You left and we didn’t hear anything from you for years. Missed your dad’s funeral, too. What is it? You have some other personal issues you want to lay off on me?”
“Don’t start on me.”
They glared at each other for an uncomfortable moment.
“I ain’t your problem, Jake,” Buddy said.
Jake nodded and held out a hand. “Okay, you’re right. Truce?”
Buddy nodded. He shook a cigarette out of a pack.
“When’d you start smoking?” Jake asked.
“The day you came back. Quit for years. See how you affect people?”
Jake saying now, “I want to look inside.”
“I don’t have a key,” Buddy said.
“That’s okay,” Jake said, producing a pair of driving clothes he brought with him. “Window’s broken, I’ll just reach inside and unlock it. Doggone kids must’ve climbed the fence and vandalized it. They’re always up to something.”
“That window ain’t bro—” Making a face and saying, “Aw shit, Jake. Don’t do that.”
“Give me your stick.”
“No.”
“Gotta be a rock somewhere.” Jake began searching the grounds.
Buddy looked around, turned away from Jake and handed him the collapsible baton.
“Don’t watch,” Jake said. “Plausible deniability.”
“This how you do things in Texas?”
“We’re not in Texas,” Jake said, extending the baton. “I’m a private enterprise operation. We don’t look into this no one else will.” Moving to the passenger door side so he didn’t disturb the driver’s seat he whipped the baton backhanded at the side window and it disappeared in an explosion of broken glass. He tugged on the driving gloves and lifted the door latch, then tripped the door locks. That done he walked back around the vehicle and opened the driver’s side door, looking inside.
Buddy stood by, shaking his head. “Man, you are something else entirely. You remember I’m running for sheriff, right?”
Jake examined the interior, careful not to disrupt the crime scene. Thinking of it that way now even though it was not considered a crime scene by Sheriff Kellogg.
“What are you looking for?” Buddy said.
“Hang on.” Jake examined the floorboard seeing the dust one would find in this part of the country. Checked the back seat. Checking under the passenger seat he found a couple of unusual items. Used toothpick and a tin of Skoal. Toothpicks and smokeless tobacco would narrow the possible users to only several hundred men in the area. Pretty thin unless he could get a DNA profile; an impossibility unless he could prove evidence of a crime. He gathered up dust samples and placed them in some zip-lock bags he’d brought along. He didn’t have a forensic setup but he did have Sue. He also scraped the brake pedal, noticing a strange substance embedded in the grooves.
He noticed the driver’s seat was pushed all the way back. Gage was five-foot-eight and that position would not be comfortable for a person of Gage’s size. Someone else driving the car.
“Was the car towed or driven back?” Jake asked Buddy.
“They’re always towed. Liability question if we drive them.”
“Wish we could dust for prints,” Jake said.
Buddy grunted. “I’ll see what I can do, you come up with anything.”
Jake reached under the dash and popped the trunk, got out and walked to the rear of the vehicle and looked inside. He was surprised by what he saw or rather by what he didn’t see. The carpeting had been removed from the trunk. Frayed carpet pieces were scattered around the trunk area.
“Well, look at that,” Jake said.
Buddy looking over his shoulder said, “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Someone didn’t want anyone to examine the contents of the trunk like blood on the carpet.”
Buddy nodded, then sighed. “Gage was a fanatic about this car. He wouldn’t let me smoke in his cars. He wouldn’t tear that carpet out.”
“The driver’s side is a mess. He had cuts and bruises yet there’s no blood I can see in the car. Not consistent with the injuries the ME mentioned. Bet we don’t find any fingerprints besides Gage’s either.” Or, just thinking it now, Maybe Gage was killed elsewhere and moved to make it look like an accident. Drowned Gage and drove his car off the bridge? Possible. Someone moved the seat back and it wasn’t Gage. Jake leaned in and made a closer look at the trunk interior.
“Look at this.” He pointed at grey flakes on the spare tire.
“Cigarette ashes?” Buddy said.
Jake nodded and said, “Whoever killed him forgot not to smoke at the scene of the crime.”
Buddy dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. “Hang on a second. Come on,” Buddy said. “Scene of the crime? You talking homicide? Why would anyone kill Gage?”
“I don’t know.” But he had thoughts about it. He wanted Buddy’s input without bias.
Buddy said, “Who’d be that mad at Gage?”
“Question is,” Jake said, shutting the trunk lid. “Why go to the trouble to make it look like an accident? If it’s a homicide, it was planned and would take more than one person to pull it off.”
“Why’s that?”
“The bridge is in a remote area miles from town. Wouldn’t be good to be seen walking back to town. They needed a second car meaning at least two men were involved.”
Buddy threw down his cigarette and stepped on it. “That’s only true if he was murdered.”
“Know what I think?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“I don’t believe he was in the car when it went off the bridge.”
“How you figure?”
“At the bridge you could tell the car didn’t go all the way into the creek. I think it possible he was drowned elsewhere then placed by in the creek. Too many footprints at the site and now too many people walking around down there to check it out. I’m not buying Gage stumbled out of the car and drowned.”
“But it is a possibility. He had a high blood-alcohol reading.”
Jake dusted his hands and nodded. “Maybe. The killers couldn’t risk getting Gage trapped inside where they couldn’t get him out. They wanted to see the body. Make sure he was dead.”
Jake walked around the Charger, checked the front bumper and then along the panels under the doors. Mud was caked on the front and underneath the car. He lay down and slid under the vehicle. No damage to the front suspension. He got out from under the Dodge, dusting off the back of his pants and said, “I want to see the accident report.”
“Sheriff’s got it and I don’t work there anymore.”
“What about Cal?”
“Jurisdiction problem. It’s county. Kellogg won’t give either of us a smell and don’t get any sick thoughts about breaking into the office.”
&n
bsp; “I wouldn’t do that.”
Buddy widened his eyes and snorted. “Hell, I don’t know what you would do. Seem to do whatever you want. Case in point,” he said, nodding at the car. “Slow down, Jake, before we end up in jail, which tends to be a negative factor in an election campaign. You come up here and storm around like a goddamn Texas cyclone. You gotta listen to me. Slow the fuck down and go at this legally.”
“How? If this is what I think it is then everything I need is going to be out of my reach. That doesn’t bother you?”
“Hell yes, but I’m not wild as you. You’ve always been like this. You just can’t run straight through everything.”
It was quiet between them for a long moment.
“You’re fucking one surprise after another,” Buddy said.
“I’ve been away.”
“Don’t make me wish you still were.”
Jake laughed.
“Here’s what we have,” Jake said. “No blood in the vehicle, some various sediment and dust particles on the floorboard that could be nothing, contusions and cuts but no blood in the vehicle but the trunk carpet removed and discarded. The victim, uh... I mean Gage drowned in the creek. I wonder?”
“Wonder about what?”
“Need to talk to Deputy Bailey. Or, you do.”
“Damn, Jake, this a lot to take in.”
Jake nodding his head. “It is.”
“Could get us in some shit.”
“Yep.”
“And you don’t give a damn what anyone thinks?”
“Nope.”
“What the hell, huh? Okay. What’re you thinking?”
Jake put his fists on his hips, looking at the car. “If Gage died somewhere then was moved to the creek, we need evidence of that. If we get that evidence, then we can get the state patrol to open up a homicide investigation.”
“You’re awful careless with that ‘we’ shit, white boy,” Buddy said.
“C’mon, if we’re going down in flames let’s do it right. You know you’re in and can’t wait to run it down, either.”
“Yeah, well,” Buddy said, shrugging. “What the hell, huh? Way I figure, we go down, we may as well do it in style.”
Chapter Nineteen
What had Jake learned so far? Nothing that would pry open an investigation into the peculiar death of his friend. He would need more information and a motive anyone would have to kill Gage, and at the moment he had zip for a motive. Had Gage stumbled onto something that got him killed?
He wanted to know the content of Gage’s lungs to determine if they were filled with creek water or some other fluid or even if it was water from a different source. Suffocation by aspiration of fluid did not necessarily mean water. Forensic science had made remarkable progress and could determine not only that it was creek water it could pinpoint the source. If not creek water, then what? And what was the material he’d removed from the brake pedal? He had no crime lab to make a determination. All he had was possibilities and suspicions, but his cop radar was buzzing.
Tuesday morning the high school had an early dismissal and Leo the Lion gave the team a day-off so he called and asked if Jake wanted to try out the Country Club golf course. Jake agreed and found Gage’s clubs in the front closet.
The club course was well-maintained. The fairways and greens looked like cake frosting. Jake remembered the old public course with its gravel parking lot, sand greens and bare spots in the fairway. He also remembered Gage and himself jumping the fence and playing holes three through eight without paying. The Country Club course was contiguous to Mitchell Agri-Business and their Chemical-Fertilizer plant. Not surprising.
“How do you afford a membership on teacher’s pay?” Jake asked Leo as they got their clubs out of the truck bed.
“Booster club pays,” Leo said. “Just another perk in my success saga. And now, as so often happens you are about to learn there is one more thing I’m better at than you, you pitiful lout.”
They went to the clubhouse and Leo signed in Jake as his guest and paid for a cart along with a twelve-pack of beer and a cooler.
“Stoking carbs, Leo,” said Jake. “We must fortify ourselves for this athletic event.”
Leo had called ahead for a 2:00 tee time. The course marshal told them the 1:45 twosome had not shown up yet. Leo pointed out that those who were early were on time and those who were on time were late.
The course marshal said, “This group is probably exempt from that.”
That was when a cart pulled up containing Vernon Mitchell and Doc Kellogg, both dressed in Country Club monogrammed shirts and hats.
Leo looked at Jake and smiled. “And the hits just keep on coming,” he said.
The two older men got out of their cart and Vernon greeted them. “Hello, boys. Good day for it, isn’t it? Not many left now. Sorry we’re a little late, Pete,” he said to the course marshal.
“No problem, Mister Mitchell,” said Pete.
Leo looked and silently formed the words, ‘no problem’ to Jake.
“Are you boys waiting to tee off?” Vernon asked.
Leo telling them it was okay they could wait. Vernon invited them to join them for a foursome. The invitation hung in the air like a cloud. Doc Kellogg looked like he’d swallowed a golf ball.
Jake cut his eyes at Leo who was shaking his head telling Jake ‘do not accept’. Jake leaned on his driver and said, “I’m not sure Doc would like that.”
“He’s okay with that,” Vernon said, “aren’t you, Doc?”
“Sure,” said the Sheriff, without looking at anyone.
“Let’s forget our difficulties for today and have a nice round.”
“What difficulties?” Jake said. “I’m just happy to be home again. Hell, I may move back here.”
Leo rolled his eyes.
“Team scramble?” Vernon said. “Best-ball and ten dollars a hole, hundred bonus?”
Jake aware Vernon was baiting them. Vernon and Doc might be hustling them. Well, let it be what it is. He would love to take their money.
“A little rich,” Jake said. “How about a buck a hole and if I win, I get a free club membership?”
“What do I get if I win?” Vernon said.
Jake smiling now, “I’ll give you this nice set of Great Big Bertha Drivers and matched set of Ping Irons.”
“I already have a good set of clubs.”
“But these are Gage Burnell’s,” Jake said. “Figure you’d like to have them for their sentimental value, if nothing else.”
Doc Kellogg’s lips were set in a firm line. Vernon’s eye darkened, but he recovered quickly. He laughed to himself and said, “Okay, hotshot, dollar a hole is fine and a club membership if you and Coach win. You won’t need to throw in the clubs. Five dollars a stroke for total score.”
“Suits us,” Leo said. “Your time is our victory.”
Vernon teed-off and sent a ball straight down the fairway about 200 yards with Kellogg nearly matching that. They were both veteran golfers so winning would be difficult. Jake teed off and his ball sliced into the rough on the right. Fortunately, Leo hit a nice shot 225 yards out on the left side of the fairway.
They got in their carts and chased after their tee shots. When they stopped, Leo opened a beer and offered one to Jake who declined. Leo was shaking his head.
“Just had to blaze one under his chin, didn’t you?” Leo said. “Couldn’t just let it go. Boy, you never stop.” Leo made a grunting sound and took a swallow from his beer can. “Try to remember Doc carries a gun in his golf bag.”
“And you think I don’t?”
Leo gave him a look. “Are you...are you kidding me?”
“Taurus nine. Right back there in the ball bag.”
Leo squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and said, “You’re scaring me. When did you become this?”
“Leo,” Jake said, as they stopped to allow Vernon to line up his second shot. “You’ve never been scared one day in your worthless life.”
/> Vernon and Doc took the first hole and after 13 holes Vernon and Doc had a 7-6 advantage.
“Damn, they’re good. We’re lucky to say close,” Leo said. “Time to go into a prevent defense. I’ll fake an injury and we’ll leave.”
“No.”
“You’re a masochist.”
“Determined optimist. You need to improve at observation.”
The 14th hole was a long par five by a creek that bordered Mitchell Agri-Industries on the right. It was a hole for big hitters. Straight with bunkers at the front of the green and one in the middle of the fairway. The kind of hole that looked like an easy five but there was danger.
Vernon got off his best tee shot of the day and he was in good position to shoot the green for an eagle or at least a birdie with two good shots. Leo hit a decent drive that was 50 yards short of Vernon’s. Jake addressed the ball and looked down the fairway. Leo was in good position so Jake was thinking he could load up and go for a winner.
Jake took a John Daly wrap-around backswing and brought the driver forward. 300 plus yards, but the ball tailed right into the rough on the right side.
“That’s too bad, son,” Vernon said.
“Playable,” Jake said.
Vernon laughed and got in his cart.
“Are you out of your mind?” Leo said. “What’re you thinking? Mine’s the smart play.”
“You’re right. But, your powder puff hit’s short and if mine’s playable; we have to use it if we’re going to keep up. C’mon, live a little, take a chance. What’ve you got to lose?”
“My money.”
They stopped their cart and Doc Kellogg hit his best shot of the day. They watched it rise and fall on the green 20 feet from the green.
“Right on the playground,” Vernon said, exultant. He waved to them as they drove up to the green.”
“See?” Jake said. “We need the extra distance. Do you see the pattern here? I’m right again.”
They pulled the cart up next to the rough and began looking for the ball. They found it but it was further right than Jake had hoped. The ball was near the creek bank and out-of-bounds. A gentle breeze blew through the trees as Jake spotted the ball.
