The Bone Puzzle

by Clayton E. Spriggs

  Memories flashed through her mind as Claire revved the car engine and hit the accelerator. She recalled the stage alive with snake charmers, Eastern mystics, and, most compelling of all, a small gypsy girl who seemed to appear and disappear at the magician’s request, as if by magic. Or, Claire thought, as if there were two of them.

  She also recollected the giant poster that graced the lobby. The fierce eyes and hypnotic pose of the great magician made you believe in his powers. His twisted mustache and long, pointed beard created an exotic, unearthly aura about him. Most of all, she remembered the strange turban on his head, with the odd shaped jewel at its center, the one Robert now had in his pocket—The Holy Relic.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  “Looks like that didn’t take long.” Billy Watts couldn’t believe his ears. Claire had been gone less than a week and seemed to have cracked the case wide open. Although she’d shared little in the way of details, she’d been adamant of the need for him to join her in Memphis immediately.

  He left at the crack of dawn and arrived at the Memphis Police Station a little after noon. Claire had already been there for the greater part of the morning by the time Billy was escorted to the back.

  “What did you find?” Billy asked. He could sense that a heated discussion had been ongoing prior to his arrival. Claire was in the company of two disgusted looking detectives. The men were clearly unhappy about Miss Montgomery’s presence. Claire, on the other hand, was not the least put out by the men’s stubbornness.

  “She didn’t find anything,” one of the men said. “She’s just some dame that came in to stir up trouble with a crazy story.”

  “I didn’t get your name,” said Billy.

  “I didn’t get yours either, Pops,” the man replied.

  “I’m Lieutenant William Watts, retired Chief Homicide Detective from the Alabama State Police.”

  “Retired, huh?” the man continued. “Shouldn’t you be fishing?”

  “Is that Billy Watts?” a booming voice called out from across the room.

  The group turned to see a burly man with gray hair, wearing an impeccable police uniform, stroll up, his humongous hand outstretched to greet the unexpected guest.

  “Charlie, it’s good to see you again,” Billy said as the two men shook hands.

  “And who is this pretty lady?” asked Chief Charlie Higgins.

  “Miss Claire Montgomery, a protégé of mine.”

  “So, you’re Claire? I’ve heard about you.”

  “Have you now, darlin’?” said Claire, donning the crooked smile that had repeatedly gained her access to the most top secret files in law enforcement.

  “I hope my men have been treating y’all right.”

  “Chief, we’ve already told her we’ve apprehended the killer. He’s been tried and convicted,” said one of the detectives.

  “Is that so? What’s this all about, Billy?” asked the chief.

  Billy nodded towards Claire.

  “It’s about Lacey and Laura Henderson,” she said.

  “I’ve never heard of them.”

  “The twin daughters of Richard Henderson.”

  “It’s not ringing a bell.”

  She looked around. “Anyone?”

  Nobody said a word. Billy hid a smile. He didn’t know either, but he was sure that whatever point Claire was trying to make, she’d already made it.

  Claire pulled a faded poster from under a stack of files on a nearby desk and presented it like it was Exhibit A at the Supreme Court. “Otherwise known as The Amazing and Magnificent Villanova.”

  “You remember, Chief. The dead magician. We already know that Gibson did that, and the jury agreed.”

  “Yet you didn’t even know his real name,” noted Claire. “What else didn’t you know, Detective?”

  “I don’t have to listen to this shit,” the officer spat.

  “Yes, you do, Jimmy,” Chief Higgins corrected him. “Go on, Miss Montgomery, I’m sure there’s more.”

  “The girls.” Claire watched their reaction.

  “See, that’s what we mean, Chief,” the other detective chimed in. “She keeps saying girls. Villanova only had the one assistant. We asked the stage hands and everyone else involved with the show. There was only the one, and we don’t know what happened to her, but we can guess. No doubt Gibson raped and killed her. He’s not talking and won’t, not that it matters. We nailed him on the Villanova homicide and that’s that.”

  Chief Higgins didn’t look convinced. “What about you, Jimmy? Do you concur with your partner?”

  “Of course,” replied Jimmy. “There was only the one girl.”

  “And who was she?” the chief asked.

  “You mean her name? It was Natalia—Natalia the Gypsy. It’s right there on the poster,” the detective pointed to the bottom of the advertisement in Claire’s hand.

  “I mean, what was her real name?” the chief insisted.

  The detective shrugged.

  “Dan?” the chief asked the other officer.

  “We, we don’t know,” stammered Dan.

  “Lacey and Laura Henderson,” Claire interrupted. “They were identical twins. Richard Henderson adopted, or rather bought, them from Georgia Tann and the Tennessee Children’s Home Society when they were infants. Does that name ring a bell, gentlemen?” Claire paused for effect, knowing full well no one at the Memphis Police Department would care to discuss that travesty.

  “I see,” said the chief, clearing his throat. “And with all due respect, how do you know this?”

  “I asked his wife,” said Claire. “Make that his ex-wife. Curiously, she has no idea that her ex-husband and her girls are dead. It seems nobody has bothered to talk to her.”

  “You’re a real peach, lady,” said Dan.

  “Detective,” chastised the chief, “we’ll not have that here. Miss Montgomery, I see your reputation is well warranted, and I commend you. Unfortunately, we have somewhat of a sticky situation on our hands.”

  “Not to mention an innocent man on death row,” added Claire.

  “Charlie,” said Billy, “I can appreciate your predicament, but Claire is right. Not only is the wrong man in jail, but the actual killer is still on the loose.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you two something?” asked the chief.

  They both nodded.

  “You’re a private investigator,” he said to Claire, “and you’re retired,” he added, glancing at Billy. “So, who sent y’all over here in the first place?”

  “Bob,” Billy answered. “He’s heading the investigation.”

  Chief Charles J. Higgins sighed and dropped his head. This was getting better by the minute. “Little Bobby is all grown up, it seems. I’ve heard things. Is he like the old man?”

  “In some ways, yes,” said Billy. “In some ways, no.”

  “In what ways?”

  “He’s just as good at getting answers, but not as direct as his father in doing so.”

  ‘Direct’ was a term that didn’t have to be explained.

  “And how is he different?” asked the chief, dreading the answer that he knew was coming because of what he’d heard through his contacts.

  “He’s smarter,” said Billy, “and, if it were possible, more relentless.”

  “Who’s Bob?” asked Jimmy, wondering what all the fuss was about.

  “Your worst nightmare, darlin’,” Claire answered.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Claire and Billy agreed to meet Robert at Dr. Hall’s. When they’d told him about their findings in Memphis, Robert had surprised them by requesting total discretion. He didn’t want any publicity about the magician or his assistants to find its way back to Alabama. Billy convinced him that once the situation leaked to the media, there would be no way to prevent nationwide exposure. Robert countered that, since the Memphis PD and the District Attorney weren’t in a hurry to embarrass themselves, he could delay the inevitable for long enough to spring his trap.

  �
��You do know Kevin Gibson is sitting on death row right now,” said Billy. He realized that Robert knew but thought he’d remind him of it all the same.

  “I’m aware of that, and we’ll do everything we can to speed this up so he can go free.”

  “What’s the plan?” asked Claire.

  Robert turned his eyes to the poster of the magician that Claire had brought with her. The fake jewel on the showman’s turban was an exact match to the item he’d found alongside the dirt road leading up to Cooter Yates’ property.

  “We’ll have to reel in the suspects one by one and turn them against each other before they lawyer up and close ranks. I’ve already expanded on the files Billy gave me, and once I put in what y’all have brought me from Memphis, that should do the trick. Should, anyway, but we’ll need some bait, a little time, and a great deal of luck. It’s the luck part that troubles me.”

  “What luck do you need?” asked Billy.

  “Two heads would do just fine,” Robert replied.

  “You may never find those,” Dr. Hall pointed out.

  “We probably won’t, which is why I put it in the luck category.”

  “And the bait?” asked Claire. She was used to being a lure for unsuspecting males, but she knew Robert had other things in mind.

  “A reason to suspect the sheriff and his men,” said Robert.

  “What!” Billy exclaimed. “How are you going to do that?”

  “It’s already done. With Dr. Hall’s help of course.”

  “Jack?” Billy turned to the medical examiner.

  “I’m not very proud of that. I want it known that I relented to the pressure under protest,” said Dr. Hall.

  “Duly noted,” Robert said.

  “Did what under protest?” asked Billy.

  Dr. Hall remained silent. Billy turned to Robert, who winked, but gave no further explanation.

  “I can’t wait to see this, darlin’.” Claire laughed.

  “We’re going to start the ball rolling tonight, around midnight. By morning, we’ll be in full swing. Hopefully, our friend, Mr. Gibson, will be breathing free air again soon. Others might not be so lucky.”

  “Care to elaborate?” Billy said.

  “And ruin the surprise?”

  “I’m sure whatever Robert has in mind is going to be a real humdinger,” said Claire, “but I do have one question.”

  Robert waited.

  “You keep saying we. Who else is going to be involved in your elaborate scheme of deception?”

  “Turner,” said Robert.

  “John Turner?” said Billy. “He’s a desk jockey. What are you going to use him for?”

  “I need a cop, but not just any cop,” answered Robert. “He’s the best person I could think of for the kind of cop I need.”

  “And what kind of cop is that, darlin’?” asked Claire.

  “The good cop.”

  Claire and Billy laughed. Dr. Hall didn’t understand and couldn’t resist the temptation to ask, “A good cop?”

  “Not a good cop,” Robert explained. “The good cop.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  “Abomination! These niggras are running rampant, I tell you!” the man in the gold robe yelled from under his mask. “Why, just the other day, I hear tell one of them bucks was eyeing up the white girls at the church social, and not one of the congregation done nothing to stop him. I say, hang him high!”

  “Hang him!” shouted the crowd.

  “In my pappy’s day, they knew their place,” the man continued, “and when they stepped out of it, we reminded them of who runs things.”

  “Here, here.” Mumbles of agreement drifted up from under the hoods of the thirty or so men present.

  “We took care of them two girls back yonder, and we need to do the same to the rest,” the man continued.

  A hush grew over the crowd. Confusion ran through the ranks. The man in gold waited. Before long, a voice rang out, “What are you talkin’ ‘bout, Dale?”

  “Exalted Cyclops, you fool!” one of the men in black shouted.

  “You know damn well what I’m talking about,” the leader said. He waved his torch around in a dramatic display as he stood in front of the burning cross. A sturdy breeze pushed the flame around the stationary wooden frame, giving the speaker the appearance of a demon resurrected from hell itself. “We did what we had to do.”

  “Did what?” another voice shouted out.

  The dozen men in black aggressively stepped forward and spread out to encircle their leader.

  “Who dares question the Exalted Cyclops?” one of them shouted.

  “The Twelve Terrors know what needs to be done. Has not the Kleagle instructed you in the ways?”

  Indiscernible protests could be heard from several of the men. The man in the golden robe continued.

  “They ain’t the only ones, my fellow Klansmen. Did you think we just come out here for a picnic? This is a war! We are his mighty soldiers! Our beloved Lord was a white man, and he spits upon the niggras and Jews of the world. His hand guides us to slay the dragons, pinkos, Catholics, Commies, and all the other mongrel races. Are you with me, brothers?”

  Members near the back drifted away, hoping to be lost in the shadows before being seen. The dozen men in black made as if they were going to stop them, but it was all for show. Others followed the first few, and soon only a half dozen men were left standing around.

  “Tell us, Exalted One, what other acts of bravery have you done in our honorable name?”

  The voice from under the hood sounded strangely familiar, but the Cyclops couldn’t put a face to it.

  “Another lost soul we tried and convicted of racial impurities. She’s buried behind the courthouse, where no one will ever look. White power!”

  “White power!” the Twelve Terrors answered.

  The few men left in the crowd looked at each other as if waiting for a cue. The man who had shouted the previous question took off his mask and said, “Under the authority vested in me by the great state of Alabama, I arrest you on the charge of homicide.”

  “Stallworth!” shouted the man under the gold hood. The men in black scurried away in every direction. The others in the crowd removed their robes and pulled out firearms. All of them were wearing the unmistakable uniform of the state police.

  One of the men in black pulled out a shotgun and pointed it at Stallworth.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Robert said calmly, hoping the man didn’t panic and squeeze the trigger in all the excitement. It would be a hell of a thing to be cut down at this stage of the investigation.

  “Clyde, put the gun down,” instructed the Exalted Cyclops. He removed his hood, revealing his true identity at last.

  “Good evening, Sheriff Fuller,” said Robert. “Deputy,” he said, nodding to the man with the shotgun. Deputy Smith set his gun down and removed his hood, as did all the others except one. Robert recognized many of the pillars of the local community, and he shook his head in disgust.

  The last hooded member squirmed as the handcuffs were shackled around his wrists. Robert walked over to him, reached up, and pulled the man’s hood off. Stallworth felt sick when he saw the man in tears under the mask.

  “Ricky.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  “Never, ever, are you going to believe this!” Jeremiah told his wife. “The sheriff’s been arrested.”

  “Arrested? For what?”

  “Murder! They say he killed them two girls, maybe even others.”

  Jeremiah could barely hold in his excitement. Ever since the incident, he was sure that sooner or later someone would figure things out and put them in jail. When the detective from the state police showed up, he was certain of it.

  “Really? That’s a little hard to believe.” Brandine was doubtful. “Are they sure they got the right guy?”

  “Of course they got the right guy. Why would you even say such a thing? Besides, it weren’t just him. They arrested Ricky and Clyde
, too.”

  “What they arrested them for?”

  “’Cause they was in on it. Jeez, honey, why do I got to explain everything to you?”

  “You mean to tell me the whole police department was in on killin’ two girls?”

  “And others,” he explained.

  “I ain’t buyin’ it. That don’t make a lick of sense.”

  “Don’t be so naïve, Brandine. They done it. That detective said they did.”

  “Ain’t he the one you said was an idiot?”

  Jeremiah huffed. Brandine Stonecypher wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but if even she doubted that the sheriff and his men were responsible, Jeremiah wondered if they really were in the clear. Just then, the dog howled. Jeremiah made his way outside in time to see his elder brother’s truck pull up to the trailer.

  “I guess you heard the news,” Jeremiah said as Junior got out and walked over.

  “Everybody heard. It came as quite a shock. I told you that detective was a fool.”

  “Yep, I guess you were right,” Jeremiah agreed. His confidence had been shaken by his wife’s nagging, so he welcomed his brother’s assurance.

  “We’re goin’ to be just fine, JT. You’ll see.”

  “So, did you get rid of them yet?”

  “Get rid of what?”

  “You know. Them heads.” Jeremiah couldn’t see how Junior could’ve possibly forgotten. He’d have been unable to sleep knowing the things were lying around, but then again, his brother was an asshole.

  “For Pete’s sake, you gonna ride me ‘bout those, too?”

  “I ain’t ridin’ you, but you said–"

  “Don’t you worry ‘bout them things. They as good as gone. ’Sides, the stupid cops think the Klan done did this. We’re off the hook.”

  Jeremiah couldn’t shake his doubt. He wanted to put it all behind him, but he felt unable. “You remember what that detective said. He said they’d try to pin it on us, and we’re gonna be on the hot seat again.”