37: A Thomas Ironcutter Novel

by David Achord

  A 1973 Ford Mustang did not have reclining seats, which made it hard for a taller man to sleep in. Even so, I cracked open the windows and got as comfortable as I could. I did not remember falling asleep.

  When I awoke, the sun was going down. My body was stiff and my mouth was crusty, reminding me the smart thing would’ve been to drive home after all. I’d turned my phone off before going to sleep. I had no doubt there were one or two messages awaiting me, but they could wait. A lot lizard sauntered by and gave me a hopeful smile, revealing discolored teeth. I waved her off and lit a cigar before driving home in silence.

  Chapter 27

  My home rested on five acres in the western part of Davidson County. It was still a fairly rural area, quiet with lots of trees. It had an agreeable rustic ambiance. It wasn’t going to last much longer; Davidson and the surrounding counties were growing by leaps and bounds, and new subdivisions were being developed all around me, but I enjoyed it while I could.

  In spite of the nap, I was still exhausted by the time I got home. I showered and made a sandwich, but I had no appetite. I tried watching TV, but it only irritated me, so turned it off and went to bed. But it was one of those nights. I was too stressed out. I got about five hours of sleep which consisted of a lot of tossing and turning before I gave up and threw the blankets off.

  I splashed cold water on my face and dressed. I then filled a travel mug with coffee and took Gracie for a predawn walk around the property. She had a good time attempting to catch one of the numerous squirrels, but she was still a clumsy pup with oversized paws. The squirrels had nothing to fear.

  My phone pinged and showed Percy’s unmarked car coming in. He and Anna were sitting on the porch by the time we made it back. Tommy Boy was sitting on Anna’s lap, and the look on his face made it clear he did not want Gracie anywhere near his girl. Gracie had been on the receiving end of more than one swipe of his claws, so she opted to scamper over to Percy and chew on his shoes.

  “What time did you finally turn in last night?” I asked Percy. It was one of the few things I did not miss as a homicide detective; when there was a fresh murder afoot, it was a guarantee of working long hours with little sleep until the case was closed.

  “I called it off at midnight,” Percy said and then realized what he had said. “No offense, I wasn’t being a smartass there.”

  “None taken. It looked like a dump job, would I be correct?” I asked.

  “Yes, it was. As of yet, we’ve not located the assault scene and the primary scene yielded absolutely no physical evidence.”

  “Wait, isn’t the primary scene where she was killed?” Anna asked.

  I started to answer, but Percy beat me to it.

  “The location where the body is found is always referred to as the primary scene. She was killed at location-A and dumped at location-B. Therefore, location-B is the primary scene and location-A will be the secondary scene. Whatever was used to transport her to the primary scene is also referred to as a secondary scene. Sometimes it will be called the tertiary scene, but that’s splitting hairs. Hollywood directors and mystery writers frequently get it wrong, but that’s how it is.”

  “Oh.” She soaked in that information a moment. “Well, what about the autopsy?” she asked.

  “The postmortem was done yesterday afternoon. The toxicology tests will take a week or two, but the preliminary ruling is a catastrophic, spiral fracture of three of the cervical vertebrae in the neck.”

  “What does that mean?” Anna asked.

  Percy waited, but I gestured for him to go ahead and answer.

  “In simplistic terms, someone twisted her head around until not one but three of her vertebrae fractured, which severed the spinal cord. It takes skill and a lot of strength to inflict that amount of damage intentionally.”

  There was a lull in conversation, the only noise coming from the morning birds and Gracie attacking one of Percy’s polished wingtips.

  “Alright, don’t hold back, was she sexually assaulted?” I asked.

  “She’d had sex,” Percy answered. “There was no trauma indicative of an assault, other than her fractured neck, and there was no semen recovered from her.”

  I nodded as I thought over what he said. He most likely had sex with her, using a condom, and then snapped her neck. Either he did it while having sex or shortly after.

  “She had a cell phone,” I said.

  “No cell phone has been recovered. We’ve already executed an emergency subpoena on the number you provided us. It’s a burner, the last call was to you, and it pinged on a tower on Lickton Pike, but that’s it. There has been no activity since.”

  “Nothing on the canvass?” I asked.

  Percy shook his head. “The UPS hub has a lot of employees. We convinced their HR to put out a blanket email to their employees, but so far, nothing.” He shook his head. “These are union people. They generally don’t cooperate with management, but I’ve put in a call to the union president. If he feels me worthy enough to call me back, I’ll to try to talk him into sending out a similar email through the union. If somebody saw something, maybe that’ll convince them to talk to us.

  “In the meantime, I’ve tasked a rookie detective with pulling all surveillance videos up and down Whites Creek Pike, including UPS, which has cameras everywhere. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Anna stood and went inside. She came back a moment later with a pot of coffee for Percy and myself, and some kind of rubber play toy I learned was called a Kong. When Anna tossed it along the porch, Gracie barked in excitement and chased after it.

  “What can I do to help” I quietly asked.

  “Locating those gypsies will help,” Percy said. “Perhaps establishing a timeline for Lilith would help as well. Anything you can think of?”

  “Yeah, there’s one thing. The Fibs are going to be paying you a visit soon,” I answered and explained.

  As I spoke, a scowl appeared on Percy’s face, but he did not openly offer any commentary. He finished his coffee and stood.

  “I better get going. I’ve got a ton of paperwork to do and the media is expecting a follow-up press conference.”

  I stood as well. The two of us shook hands. Anna lingered. I got the hint and walked inside, giving them some privacy. I turned the TV on and booted up my computer. Anna walked in a few minutes later.

  “Do you want me to make a fresh pot of coffee?” she asked.

  “No thanks, I’m good.”

  I heard her put the kettle on the stove eye before coming into the den and joining me.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “As well as can be expected. What are your plans for today?”

  “I can hang out with you, if you want.”

  I knew what she was thinking. I was hurting and needed company. I gave her a smile. “I appreciate it, but I think I’m going to take a break for the day and hang out here. Maybe work on that old Cadi for a while.”

  She paused for a moment. “Ms. Braxton called last night and left a message. She wanted an update. I don’t have much.”

  I jumped to my feet. “Damn it, I’m glad you said something.” I hustled outside and retrieved the file folder out of the backseat. Bringing it back inside, I handed it to Anna.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “The esteemed Professor Farquhar did some research on Chester Bond. I have to admit, it’s impressive stuff. He even cited all of his sources. Chicago style, of course. As he once told me, only a socialist would use MLA style on history research.”

  Anna thumbed through the pages. “This is a lot. What does it say?”

  “It is the military record of Chester Bond. He enlisted for the Confederacy on April 26th, 1861 with the Williamson Grays. They were first sent to Camp Cheatham for training. Camp Cheatham was close to Springfield.”

  “Wow, this is good,” Anna said.

  “It gets better. The unit’s first battle was at Perryville, Kentucky, which was also known as the B
attle of Chaplin Hills. That was in October 8th, 1862. It was a loss for the Confederates and they retreated from the field of battle.” I fumbled through one of the pages and found what I was looking for. “At first, Chester was listed as MIA, and then KIA, but somehow they determined he went AWOL.”

  “He went back to Franklin to marry Penelope,” Anna surmised. “They were married on the twelfth of October.”

  “Yeah, that seems to fit. If I had to guess, his moment on the battlefield put the fear of God into him and he wanted to do the right thing with his family. Anyway, he was never heard from again. At some point, his AWOL status was changed back to being KIA at the battle of Perryville.”

  Anna eyed the papers before looking up. “Somebody committed the perfect murder.”

  “Yeah, I’d say you’re right. Well, that’s a mystery we’re not being paid to solve,” I said. “We’re only being paid to complete the old gal’s family tree. I think you’ve got the missing piece right here and we can wrap this one.”

  I looked over the report and corresponding family tree Anna had completed. Included were the photocopies of all of the tax records, censuses, birth records, and death records from 1850 until 1950. “You’ve done some good leg work here.”

  “You helped,” Anna added.

  She began taking the pages Ebbie had supplied and began the task of scanning each page. After each page was scanned, she put them into sheet protectors and added them to one of the three-ring notebooks for this case. There were two of them and each was carefully organized. Anna had done it all. It reminded me she was becoming a pretty good PI, but I wanted more for her than this kind of life.

  My thoughts drifted away from the Braxton case. I was perplexed about Lilith’s murder. Why were they in Nashville and why was she killed? It didn’t seem to make any sense. She was Wolf’s lover, that much was obvious. They’d had sex at some point before she was murdered. Did they get into a lover’s quarrel? But why were they in Nashville? I pondered it for a minute or two before a possible explanation came to me. I sent a text to Percy.

  I have an idea why Lilith was in Nashville. Were there any abductions or attempted abductions reported in the past few days?

  Thirty minutes went by before Percy responded. He called instead of texting.

  “How did you know?” he asked.

  “The gypsies Lilith was with are suspected of some abductions. They’re believed to be a part of an international human trafficking ring. That seems to be the only possible reason why they were here. Tell me what you have.”

  “It was an attempt. A woman approached a teenage girl at Opry Mills shopping mall. The victim liked the Goth look and she said this woman was dressed the same. They struck up a conversation and at one point, the woman invited her to go back to her apartment and get high. The victim was going to go, but when they got to the parking lot, the woman’s demeanor changed suddenly. She grabbed the girl by the shoulders and told her that her life was in danger and to run.

  “The kid was confused at first, but the woman slapped her. That was all it took. The detective assigned to that case is going to show the victim a photo lineup with Lilith’s picture included.”

  “Yeah, I think we already know it was Lilith,” I said. “That might be why they killed her, but still, it seems harsh.”

  “Perhaps she told them she was leaving them,” Percy surmised.

  “Could be.”

  “Alright, if you think of anything else, give me a call,” he said.

  I disconnected the call and pondered the new information. So, they decided to try an abduction in Nashville, and in broad daylight. Had they failed to meet their quota or something? But why Nashville? Why not some other city? I sighed in exasperation knowing I’d probably never learn the answers.

  Chapter 28

  I was drinking my first cup of coffee and watching the morning news when Special Agent-in-Charge Reuben Chandler called. He didn’t bother saying hello or any other formalities.

  “Have you heard?” he asked.

  He was referring to the current story plastered on the news.

  “Yeah, I’m watching it now.”

  “Yeah,” he mimed.

  “How is she?” I asked.

  “Not good; she’s in a coma,” he replied. He sounded fatigued, like he had not seen his bed for over twenty-four hours. I knew why he was calling me, but I played along.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Have you guys got any solid leads?”

  “We’re working on it. By the way, your Explorer is ready. I have it parked here at the office.” He paused a moment. “Since you have an involvement in this matter, I would like for you to come in for a formal interview, if possible.”

  “Will I need a lawyer?” I asked.

  “It’s up to you,” he answered. “You know how it goes.”

  Yeah, I knew how it went. I was intimately familiar with how it went. We discussed it a few minutes and I ultimately agreed, which I think surprised him. After ending the call, I immediately called Ronald.

  “Have you seen the news?” I asked.

  “No. What’s up?”

  I quickly filled him in. “So, the Feds have his cellphone and most likely his laptop too. Can you delete that spyware?”

  “Sure, but they won’t be able to trace it back to us,” he said.

  “Yeah, but I don’t even want them to know somebody was spying on him. The Feds are funny about things like that.”

  “Alright, consider it done. Oh, I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but his cell was synced up to his laptop. I’ll look over what data we have and see if there’s anything of value.”

  I was about to tell him that was a good idea, but he hung up before I could speak.

  I continued watching the news as I finished my coffee. The talking heads proceeded to tell the viewing audience an FBI agent was pursuing an investigation with an undercover operative when both of them were attacked and viciously beaten. They were found by a truck driver at an untended rest area on I-65 near Cornersville, Tennessee. Both of them were rushed to the local hospital whereupon one was declared deceased and the other life-flighted to Vanderbilt Hospital. The names had not yet been released to the media, but I instantly knew who it was.

  I showered and shaved, but opted for casual attire; jeans and a Tiger Woods signature golf shirt, which cost as much as most dress shirts but was worth it. I got an Uber ride to the FBI’s Nashville office on Elm Hill Pike and arrived promptly at nine. Reuben was waiting for me in the lobby. The fatigue on his face was easy to see. He greeted me in a somber voice.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said and without any further preamble led me through the security doors.

  The place was a bustle of activity, which under the circumstances was not surprising. The two of us walked in silence down the hallway and stopped in front of an unmarked door. A man and woman were waiting.

  “Thomas, this is Special Agents Carter Pike and Hope Delmonico. Since I consider you a friend, I am going to exclude myself from this interview in order to avoid the perception of bias.”

  “I suppose I understand,” I said.

  Reuben gave a small nod. “Thanks. If you’ll excuse me, I am needed elsewhere.” He left quietly, walking down the hall to an unknown destination, leaving me with the two agents. I turned to them and gestured to the door, which I assumed was an interview room.

  “Shall we go in?” I suggested.

  I briefly scanned the room before sitting. The room was exactly like the one in Memphis. “Is this interview going to be recorded?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Agent Pike answered. I peered at him closely. It wasn’t normal for a Fibbie to give an honest answer and I wondered if he was medicated or something.

  The two of them sat across from me at a table with a gray-patterned Formica top. Agent Pike was close to my age, Delmonico a little younger. Both were clean-cut and professional in appearance. In other words, typical FBI agents.

  But what was more important, Special Ag
ent Delmonico was a looker, with cinnamon-colored hair pulled up in a bun, variegated hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and a pert nose. Her makeup consisted of a light application of base and a touch of lipstick. I must admit, I hastened a quick look at a particular area a few inches below her neck. I couldn’t help myself, those babies were threatening to bust a button or two on her blouse. I felt her eyes on me and hastily looked down at her notepad. When I looked up, she had me fixed with an undefinable stare. Some women, like Debbie, liked it when a man ogled; others did not. It was hard to say which category Agent Delmonico fit in. I broke eye contact and focused on Agent Pike.

  “Let me start by saying you are not under arrest and are free to go at any time of your choosing,” Agent Pike said, breaking my thoughts.

  I gazed at him for a moment before responding. “Let me respond by saving us a lot of time and effort. I already know everything you are going to ask and how you’re going to ask it. You are not going to be able to apply any type of behavioral pattern analysis to detect deception. Every answer I give will be the truth or I simply won’t answer you. Now then, the purpose of this interview is to determine whether or not I was involved in the assault of Special Agent Stainback and undercover operative Raymondo Calendar, correct?”

  Agent Pike seemed taken aback. “We have not released Raymondo’s name to the media. How do you know he was the second victim?”

  “Simple deductive logic,” I replied. “Now, although you’ve not yet asked, I’ll go ahead and answer. I did not perpetrate the assault on either of them, I was not involved in any way, nor do I have any firsthand knowledge of the incident.”

  Agent Delmonico jotted down some notes. Agent Pike nodded slightly, as if agreeing, but he seemed unsatisfied. “I could not help but notice you declined to assert you do not know who was involved in the assault of Special Agent Stainback.”

  “True enough. That’s because I am reasonably certain I know exactly who did it, given the nature of the assault and the circumstances. Both of them were physically beaten, no known weapons were used, correct?”