by Scott Pratt
I put the phone back in the car and went back into the courtroom. Judge Montgomery was just finishing up introducing Rupert Lattimore to the appointed attorney who would replace me. She set a new trial date, and Rupert shuffled out of the courtroom.
I went back to the defense table, and the judge called my case. We went through the hearing, and I won. The prosecution’s expert witness was disqualified, and since they didn’t have time to get another one before the trial date and the judge wouldn’t give them a continuance, they moved to dismiss the case.
My sleazebag client was thrilled.
Three days later, I heard on the news that an inmate at the Knoxville City Jail had sneaked into Rupert Lattimore’s cell while Rupert was napping and dumped a large bowl of baby oil that had been superheated in a microwave oven onto Rupert’s face. Rupert was in a local hospital in critical condition. The report said that all the skin on his face had melted off into his hands as he screamed and tried to wipe off the baby oil.
Nobody knew—or at least nobody was saying—who the oil-throwing inmate was, and nobody knew why Rupert Lattimore no longer had a face.
Except for me, of course. And a man named Big Pappy.
CHAPTER 37
I’d put Sean out of my mind, primarily because if I allowed myself to think about him and how much I loved him and would miss him, I was afraid I would actually feel something besides anger and rage, and it was those two emotions that had largely taken over my psyche. When it came to Sean, it was almost as though I was in a perpetual state of what Pink Floyd had once called “comfortably numb,” although my numbness wasn’t induced by drugs or alcohol. It was induced by a subconscious choice I’d made to protect myself from emotional trauma. I wanted to kill Katie and her fiancé. I’d thought about it many time, but I knew killing her would be the end for me. There were limits to what I could do, and I knew I was already pushing them.
To keep myself from thinking about Sean, I spent a lot of time in the woods outside of Petros, which was less than an hour away, pumping rounds through the 0.22 pistol I’d bought. Marty had asked me to stop going there, but I chose to ignore him. Target-shooting was mindless, it kept me occupied, and in the state I was in, I never knew when it might come in handy.
When the time came for Sean to leave, I decided it would be best to say goodbye over the phone. I could have—and should have—taken him fishing or camping or to a movie or to the mall or on a hike. I could have done something that, as Gwen had suggested, would show him how much I loved him and how much I was going to miss him. But instead, I called him the day before they were supposed to leave. It was five o’clock, and my office had just closed.
“You’re really going to like Hawaii, buddy,” I said when he came on the phone.
“I hope so,” he said.
“I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard it’s a beautiful place. You’ll be surrounded by the Pacific Ocean, there are mountains and hills just like there are here, but the weather is a lot better. You’ll see a lot of palm trees, and you’ll get to do a lot of cool stuff in and around the ocean. Maybe you can take up scuba diving and deep-sea fishing, do some parasailing or learn to surf.”
“I’ll miss you, Dad,” he said, and I heard him start to sniffle.
“Don’t even think about me,” I said. “Your mom thinks this is best for you, and as much as I hate to agree with her on anything, she’s probably right. You’re going to go to a great school, and you’re going to have a great life over there. So like I said, don’t even think about me. Just live your life and be happy all the time.”
“Mom says you killed two men. She says you’re going back to jail.”
“Your mom says a lot of things. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t kill anybody, and I’m not going to jail.”
“Why would she say that if it isn’t true?”
“She always says terrible things, Sean. She has ever since we split up. You know that. She just doesn’t like me.”
“She hates you.”
“I know she does. Maybe once you get to Hawaii and she doesn’t have to see me or deal with me, she’ll stop hating me so much. Maybe that will be another good thing that comes out of all this. My lawyer says you get out of school the last week in May, and I’ll fly you here the first week of June. You can stay here until the first of August if you want.”
“That’s a long time away, Dad.”
“No, it isn’t. A little over six months. It’ll pass before you know it, and then you’ll be back here. So I’ll see you the first of June, and I’ll call you a lot in between. We can FaceTime.”
“Okay,” he said in a small voice.
“I have to go now, buddy. I’ll talk to you soon. Have a good flight to Hawaii, and I’ll be in touch.”
“I love you, Dad,” he said.
I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I was too far gone by that time to tell him I loved him. I knew I had to still love him at some level, but I just couldn’t feel it.
“I know you do,” I said. “I’ll think about you all the time. Bye, Sean.”
I disconnected the call, and as soon as I hung up, I put him out of my mind. I went outside, got into my car, drove to Petros, and started firing away at the targets. I kept on until it was too dark to see.
CHAPTER 38
Will Grimes wore plain clothes as he pulled into the used car lot on MacCorkle Avenue Southeast in Charleston, West Virginia. The lot was relatively small, with about fifty cars in the inventory. A white trailer sat in the middle of the lot, and as soon as Grimes got out of his car, a tall, extremely thin, redheaded man walked through the door of the trailer and started toward him.
“Welcome,” the redhead said. His wide smiled revealed teeth that were yellow and deteriorating. His complexion was muddled and he had a slight tic when he spoke. The photographs Grimes had seen of this man—booking photos from when he was arrested on drug charges a decade earlier—reflected someone with nearly perfect teeth and a healthy complexion. Grimes wondered whether Rex Fairchild had fallen victim to the plight of so many drug dealers—sampling his own wares.
“What are we in the market for today?” the salesman said.
“Some answers,” Grimes said as he pulled his badge from the sport coat he was wearing and held it out. “I’m looking for Rex Fairchild, and from the booking photographs I’ve seen, you appear to be him.”
The smile disappeared from the salesman’s face, and he backed up a couple of steps. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Name’s Grimes. Will Grimes. I’m with the Bureau of Criminal Investigation, West Virginia State Police. And like I just said, I want some answers.”
“I don’t have any answers,” Fairchild said. His manner had changed completely, from friendly and accommodating to hostile.
“How can you tell me you don’t have any answers when you haven’t even heard the questions?”
“I don’t want to hear any questions,” Fairchild said. “Why don’t you just get back in your car and get off my property?”
Grimes looked at Fairchild’s hands, both of which were covered in tattoos. “You convicts are all the same. Just can’t resist the peer pressure, I guess. My understanding is that you asked an old friend of yours to do some recon work in Cowen for an ex-con named Big Pappy Donovan. You asked him to check out a boy named Donnie Frazier, who happened to have a friend named Tommy Beane. They’re both dead now. Am I bringing back any fond memories for you?”
“Got no idea what you’re talking about,” Fairchild said.
“This Big Pappy Donovan was in prison with a lawyer named Darren Street. Darren Street won an appeal for Big Pappy and got him out of prison, and then Street got out, too. They’re big buddies, from what I understand. Real tight. What happened was that those two boys you had your buddy asking about, Donnie Frazier and Tommy Beane, they went down to Tennessee and blew up Darren Street’s momma’s house. She was in the house, and she got killed. Street wasn’t there. Then a couple of detectives in
Knoxville screwed up and told Street that Donnie was a suspect because Donnie’s brother got killed in prison after he had a beef with Street. So what I figure is that Street went to Big Pappy, who was his old shot caller and is his friend, for help. Pappy came to you because you’re in West Virginia, not too far from where those boys lived. You got somebody—and I know who that somebody is—to gather the information. He passed it along to you, and you passed it along to Pappy. Pappy then passed it on to Street. Then Street came into my state and shot those two boys to pieces.”
“That’s some story,” Fairchild said, “but I’ve never heard of anyone named Big Pappy or Darren Street, and I don’t know anybody in Cowen.”
“Right now, as far as I’m concerned, you could be looking at two counts of conspiracy to commit murder,” Grimes said, “but what I’m really after is Street.”
“Can’t help you,” Fairchild said. “Like I said, I got no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I just can’t tell you how much I hate it when somebody lies to me,” Grimes said. “You just stood there and lied right to my face. You were in the cocaine business with Big Pappy Donovan. I have the records from the federal district court to prove it. I have a copy of your indictment. Do you think I’m some kind of idiot that you can just blow off? Because if you think you can just blow me off, you’re going to wind up right back in the penitentiary, my friend. As matter of fact, at this point, I’m probably the only person who can keep you out of the penitentiary. Talk to me, and I’ll tell the district attorney to cut you some slack. I know you didn’t kill anybody. Street did the killing. I have a witness who can identify him. He’s the one I want. You just did a favor for an old friend, right? You just asked another old friend to ask around a little, got the information Big Pappy asked you to get, and passed it on. You didn’t have any idea those boys were going to get gunned down, did you? How could you possibly have known that?”
“Did I hear you say you have some records from federal court?” Fairchild said.
“That’s right, and they say you know Michael Donovan.”
“They never proved a damned thing about me and this Donovan you keep talking about. It doesn’t matter what that indictment says. But if you check into it a little more, you’ll find out one real important thing about me. I don’t rat on anybody. I don’t talk about anybody to fucking cops. So like I said a few minutes ago, get back in your car and get off my property.”
“You’re making a big mistake,” Grimes said.
“Fuck off,” Fairchild said, and he turned and walked back to the trailer.
CHAPTER 39
Grimes did exactly what Fairchild told him to do. He got in his car and he left. But rather than driving back to Elkins, he decided to pay a visit to the Charleston Police Department headquarters. He walked in unannounced fifteen minutes after he left Rex Fairchild’s, and within another five minutes, was sitting in the office of Sergeant Eric Young. Young was in his late twenties, one of only five black officers in the department. He was the supervisor of the Special Enforcement Unit, a group of four detectives who worked primarily vice and narcotics cases and coordinated with the Metropolitan Drug Unit. Grimes introduced himself to Young, gave him some background on the murder investigation he was conducting, and asked whether Young had ever heard of Rex Fairchild.
“Everybody that works drugs has heard of Fairchild,” Young said. “He went to prison before I even started working here, but when he came back and set up shop in the used car business, we took a look at him. You don’t just put fifty cars on a lot straight out of prison without some money. We thought he might have jumped right back into it.”
“What did you find?”
“The money is coming from his father, or at least part of it. His father is in the insurance business, has been forever, and is pretty well off. He apparently went to his bank and cosigned to have the bank finance the cars. My understanding is that he also put up a substantial amount of his own money.”
“So you guys don’t suspect Fairchild of dealing?”
Young shook his head. “Nah. We moved on. Haven’t looked at him in a while.”
“He may not be dealing, but he’s using,” Grimes said. “Probably coke, maybe meth. I just talked to him, and I’ve seen enough addicts to know that he’s using a lot. His teeth are a mess, and he looks he’s starving. Do you think you might be able to help me out?”
“What do you have in mind?” Young said.
“If I’m going to break this murder case open, I’m going to have to do it from the bottom up,” Grimes said. “Fairchild is somebody I could lean on, but he’s also somebody that I could offer a deal to because he had minimal involvement. He’s a coconspirator in a double murder, but I’m not sure he knew that when he got involved. If you guys can pop him on a drug charge, especially if you can catch him with felony weight, I can come in and testify at a bond hearing that he’s a suspect in a double murder. If we can get his bond set high enough that he can’t get out, or get him held without bond, I think he’ll start talking because he’ll desperately want to get out and get more drugs. Think you could do that for me?”
Young leaned forward and put his arms on his desk. “You say this guy in Tennessee that’s suspected of the murders is a lawyer?”
Grimes nodded. “Criminal defense lawyer. He’s also suspected of kidnapping and murdering a formal federal prosecutor, but from what I understand, they have next to nothing on him in that case.”
“I hate lawyers,” Young said. “I maybe hate them more than murderers.”
“That makes you a part of a pretty large group, my friend,” Grimes said.
“Okay, we’ll get on Fairchild for you. If he’s using a lot, probably all we’ll have to do is a little surveillance. We’ll just follow him to his dealer and then pop him on a traffic violation after he picks up his coke. We’ll ask if we can search his car, and if he says no, we’ll bring in a dog.”
“The old tried-and-true traffic stop,” Grimes said. “What will you stop him for? Speeding?”
Young smiled. “We’ll figure something out. We always do. I’ll let you know as soon as he’s in custody.”
CHAPTER 40
Ten days after my meeting with Katherine Davis, and only three days before Christmas, I got a text from Grace around 5:30 p.m., asking me what time I would be home. It was Saturday, I’d finished up some Christmas shopping, and I told her I’d be there in about an hour. I drove to her apartment around 6:30 p.m. When I walked into the apartment, all my things were piled in the kitchen. Grace was standing with her back to the refrigerator. Her arms were folded across her chest.
“The ring you gave me is on the counter,” she said. “I think you should leave. Be sure you don’t forget your prepaid cell phones.”
I set my briefcase on the floor and looked at her. I put on my best dumbfounded face. “What the hell? What’s the matter with you?”
“I got another visit from those two detectives today. They came to my office. Do you know what they wanted this time? They wanted to know where you were the day Ben Clancy disappeared, and do you know what? I couldn’t tell them where you were because I didn’t know. What I do know is that you left at four thirty in the morning that day. You told me you had an early meeting with a client and that you were going to the gym early.”
“That’s exactly what I did,” I said.
“Stop lying, Darren. I go to the same gym, and you know it. You should also know that I have some good friends who work there. I called one of them after the detectives left and asked whether you punched your member number into the registry that morning. They keep track of everybody that goes in and out of that building. You didn’t punch in your number, and you can’t get through the security gate that early in the morning if you don’t enter the number.”
“Your friend is mistaken,” I said. “I went to the gym that morning.”
“Why do you have three prepaid cell phones, Darren? Why do you have a pistol with a silencer?”
“I’m paranoid about my phone. I’d think you would understand that after what I’ve been through. And the gun is just for protection. If you’ll recall, someone blew up my mom’s house trying to kill me not long ago.”
“That doesn’t explain the silencer.”
“It came with the gun when I bought it. I got it at a gun show in a parking lot. It was a package deal. I haven’t even fired the damned thing, Grace.”
That last statement was a blatant lie, too. I’d already put hundreds of rounds through the Walther. It was a sweet little pistol.
“Who do you call on your prepaid phones? What kind of business do you conduct? I’ve never once seen you on a prepaid cell phone. I think you started using them when you went on your so-called fishing trip to work some things out. I thought it was strange that you left your cell phone here that weekend. You didn’t want it pinging off any towers in West Virginia, did you?”
“You’re talking crazy,” I said.
“Who was your early-morning meeting with? The one you didn’t go to after you didn’t go to the gym.”
“It was with a client.”
“Which client?”
“You know I can’t tell you that. It’s privileged.”
“Bullshit,” Grace said. She rarely cursed. She’d moved off the refrigerator and was standing only a few feet from me. “Take your ring, take your things, and get out.”
“Grace, please. You’re overreacting. Listen to yourself. Do you really think I’m a murderer?”
“At this point, I don’t know what to think,” she said. “You went through a great deal when Clancy put you in prison. I was so proud of you when you started to come back to life, and I was so happy when you asked me to marry you. But then your mother was killed, and you changed. I already lied to the police once for you, Darren. That weekend those two men were killed in West Virginia, I told them you were here with me. You told me you were fishing. But you weren’t, were you? You weren’t camping. You were killing people. You said you caught two big ones and you left them where you found them. And then you came back here, and all you wanted to do was have sex after you hadn’t touched me in weeks. Do you know how creepy that makes me feel? You go and commit two murders and then come back here and practically rape me?
