His right eye opened, and then his mouth. The words came out in a guttural whisper. “Well, y’all going to gawk at me or tell me who shot me?”
Reece held up his blue folder like he expected Tommy Lee to read through the cover. “Florida man. Mitch Kowalski. I’ve spoken to the local police in Delray Beach.”
Tommy Lee swallowed with difficulty, and then looked at me. “Hurts to talk, but I can listen. Pull up some chairs.”
I noticed the room was at least fifty percent bigger than the regular ones. Howard Jefferson had come through with special accommodations. Not only was there a sofa that pulled out for someone to spend the night, but space allowed for a desk and two extra chairs with enough room to maneuver them bedside. Reece sat to Tommy Lee’s left and I took the right.
Reece summarized what he knew about Kowalski and the death of his wife. He had new information that there was no one else in the family named Lucy. Kowalski’s only daughter, named Rose, didn’t know her father had left Delray Beach, and the police in Florida were going to see if Kowalski had told anyone he was heading for North Carolina.
Reece had also told the Delray police about the credit card in the girl’s possession and Kowalski’s accusation to the man called Lincoln. He concluded his progress report saying he’d release the body to the daughter when the autopsy was completed and had sent out a description of the unidentified girl to the surrounding counties.
Then Reece pulled several sheets of paper from the folder. “I went in early this morning and got the duty roster. I brought it for you to review.”
Tommy Lee stared at him for a few seconds. “Duty roster?”
“Yeah. I figured you’d want to reorganize the rotation while you’re laid up. How do you want to cover the office?”
Tommy Lee shot me a quick glance. The duty roster was the last thing on his mind. I looked up at the vital statistics monitor expecting to see his blood pressure shoot off the screen.
“Reece.” Tommy Lee’s voice strained to remain a whisper. “Listen carefully. I don’t give a damn about the duty roster.”
Reece flushed. He tucked the papers back in the folder like they were dirty pictures.
Tommy Lee took a slow breath and grimaced. “I don’t give a damn because I know I can count on you to take care of it. I’m putting you in charge of all administration. Unless something extraordinary happens, I want you to run things like I was dead.”
Reece’s head bounced like a bobble-head doll. “Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I won’t let you down.”
“But I’m not dead. And I’ll be coming back. So, take my advice and remember empathy and humility. You’ll do fine.”
“Empathy and humility,” Reece repeated.
I hoped Reece would look the words up in the dictionary since they were a foreign language to him.
“One thing you won’t be in charge of is the investigation of this shooting.” Tommy Lee whispered the statement like he was doing Reece a big favor.
Reece wasn’t buying it. “Why not? It’s a major crime.”
Tommy Lee swallowed again. The tube used to administer anesthesia during surgery had probably rubbed his throat raw.
“Would you like a little ice?” I asked. The Styrofoam pitcher on the rolling table beside me contained slivers of ice that had not yet melted.
Tommy Lee nodded. I held a cupful close to his chin and let him take a bite. Reece and I sat quietly while he enjoyed the soothing effect of the ice.
After several moments, Tommy Lee pressed on. “Reece, I shot and killed a man. An old man I probably startled into firing. We’ll need a thorough investigation, and I’ll want the final report sent to the District Attorney’s Office for their review. That way we’ll minimize any question of a cover-up by some good ol’ boys Sheriff’s club.”
“But he shot you first,” Reece said.
“And I expect that to be duly noted in the report. But there’s also the man who pushed that girl into the line of fire and got her shot. As far as I’m concerned, he’s as culpable as Kowalski for the shooting. Maybe more. I want him found and prosecuted.”
Reece looked confused. “But we don’t even know who the man is.”
Tommy Lee smiled. “No, we don’t. And you don’t have the time or personnel to find out. That’s why I’m going to assign a special deputy reporting directly to me.”
I got a numb feeling in the pit of my stomach as cold as the ice in the cup. Deputy Barry Clayton hadn’t been a joke.
Reece’s jaw dropped. He stared at me. “Him?”
“I haven’t asked Barry yet. I wanted you to be part of the discussion.”
Reece was still having trouble getting his mouth to close. “But he’s only a funeral director.”
“Barry’s also worked for a big-city police force, he’s nearly completed his degree in criminal justice, and he’s not confined by a duty roster.”
People didn’t die according to a duty roster, either. How could I conduct an investigation and run Clayton and Clayton at the same time? But I wasn’t about to supply fuel for Reece. This was between Tommy Lee and me.
But Reece wasn’t about to give up. Like a terrier with a bone, he just couldn’t drop it. “I think the idea stinks. And not because Barry’s your friend, but because he doesn’t have the experience for something this big.”
Tommy Lee sank deeper in his pillows and rubbed his throat. “Reece, I’m too tired and too sore to argue. I was hoping you’d understand, but let me put it this way. I was elected by the people. I serve at their pleasure, and the people I hire serve at my pleasure.”
His words had the desired impact. Reece forced a smile. “Get me your sizes, Barry, and I’ll order your uniform.”
Perfect. I could be the escort for my own funeral processions.
“Just a badge and an ID will be enough,” Tommy Lee said. “He won’t be with us long.”
That prospect brightened Reece’s face. “Barry, I’ll help you any way I can.”
I nodded, and then just stared at Tommy Lee. He looked so vulnerable chained to all that equipment. My heart wanted me to help him; my head wanted me to get the hell out of there. “I’ll have to talk to Mom and Uncle Wayne.”
“Of course,” he whispered. “But I need to know quick.”
“I’ll let you know one way or the other by noon.”
“Fine.” He turned to Reece. “Will you write the memo announcing Barry’s appointment? If he gives you the okay, sign it for both of us. From you and me.”
I could tell Reece savored the sight of his name on an interoffice proclamation. “Right away.” He rocked back and forth in his chair, anxious to run with the news.
“Go ahead then,” Tommy Lee said. “I’ve got a few minor things for Barry. Tell everyone I’m as ornery as ever.”
Reece stood up. “They’ll be glad to hear it.” Then he actually saluted.
Tommy Lee lifted one arm a few inches off the sheet and waved his fingers “bye-bye.” Reece gave me an earnest man-to-man nod and left.
Tommy Lee tried to restrain a laugh, but the suppressed breath came out in a muffled cough. He winced at the sharp pain.
I didn’t find the situation nearly as humorous. “Reece has a point, you know.”
“Umm,” he grunted. “Tell me if he gets in your way.”
“Listen—”
Tommy Lee raised his hand again and cut me off. “I need your help, but like I said I’m too whipped to argue. If you can’t do it, fine. Right now, though, think with me. What would you do next?”
I gave him some more ice while I thought over his question. “The credit card. It’s physical evidence. We need to track the history of its use. Did Mitch Kowalski get a billing statement that led him here? His wife’s tied to the card, the card to the girl in the hospital, the girl to a man named Lincoln, and Lincoln to Kowalski by the fact that he called Lincoln by name.” I stopped and thought for a moment. “If it was simple credit card theft, how would Kowalski know Lincoln? Someone either here or in Flo
rida might be able to tie them together.”
Tommy Lee closed his eye and smiled. “Go on.”
“There’s the girl. Who is she? Where’s she from? We should get a picture to Kowalski’s daughter. The Delray police need to work that end. Maybe some of the Florida summer people up here are from Delray. We need to question them. I’ll talk to Susan about the girl’s appearance. Is there anything that suggests where she’s from? Florida tan? Wardrobe labels?
“Then I’ll check reports of items left at the street dance. Maybe they brought folding chairs that never got picked up. If Lincoln came from Delray, he might have been staying at an area motel. I’ll see if Reece can have someone work the phones for those inquiries.”
I stopped. Tommy Lee’s head had sagged to one side with a trace of a smile still clinging to his pale lips. His breath came in regular shallow gasps and the monitor beeped steadily. O’Malley’s words came to mind. “The calmer he stays, the faster he mends.” I realized my own words to Tommy Lee about the planned investigation had taken a distinct shift. What had started as “we” ended as “I.”
Before my father’s Alzheimer’s, my goal with the Charlotte Police Department had been to make detective and perhaps someday work for the FBI. As I stood there watching Tommy Lee sleep, I heard the voice of my dad before his illness. He often gave me that age-old advice, “Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.”
My time in Charlotte had been spent as a patrolman. I’d been around enough homicide scenes to watch and learn from the detectives. I’d made friends with several of them, but I’d never been in charge of a homicide investigation.
In a large police force like Charlotte, detectives usually worked a homicide in teams of two. One would be the primary detective in charge of the investigation and the other would be assigned to assist with interviews, provide backup for going into dangerous situations, and, perhaps most importantly, be a sounding board for ideas, no matter how crazy. But there was never any doubt that the case was the responsibility of the primary detective. His name appeared on the case file. He got the credit when the case was solved and blame when it wasn’t.
One of the veteran detectives in Charlotte took a liking to me, as the mountaineers would say. Old Eddie White schooled me on the way things really worked. He laughed about how when he was the assisting detective, he always knew everything and never made a mistake. But when he was the primary detective he always felt lost as hell and was clueless on what to do next.
I’d always thought Eddie was joking, but now I knew what he was talking about. There was a huge difference between helping Tommy Lee on a case and being the guy ultimately responsible for its solution.
Reece was right. I was a funeral director. A damn good one, and I had obligations to Mom, Dad, and Uncle Wayne. There was much to consider and not much time to decide.
But Tommy Lee had confidence in me. How could I tell him no?
I knew one thing for sure. If I took the job and made a mistake, somebody would literally get away with murder.
Chapter Five
“I need to discuss something with all of you.” I continued standing while everyone found a seat in the parlor.
Mom led Dad to the sofa. They’d been out in the backyard where he could get some fresh air. She was carrying his customary noon glass of lemonade. My uncle Wayne put his long bony frame in an armchair and cocked his head to give me his good ear. I’d summoned him from the backroom where he’d been inventorying embalming supplies. Fletcher had come into the funeral home that Saturday to help Uncle Wayne since he figured I’d be tied up at the hospital. Fletcher took the matching armchair opposite Wayne.
I pulled the wooden comb-back Windsor from the back corner of the parlor and sat where everyone could see me. Mom, Uncle Wayne, and Fletcher looked at me expectantly. Dad’s limited attention focused on the straw in his drink, his doctor’s way of making the act of swallowing more deliberate.
“You all know Tommy Lee’s out of danger, but it’ll be a while before he’s out of the hospital.”
“Fine man, fine family,” Wayne said.
“Yes. Well, he’s asked me to help him with the case.”
“I thought he killed the man?” Fletcher said.
“But we don’t know why the man was there or who he was really trying to kill. And there’s the unidentified girl.”
“And poor little Cindy,” Mom added, probably remembering her as six years old and coloring at a table in Helen’s diner.
“You’ve got to help him,” Wayne said. “No two ways about it. He’d take the case if it were you.”
Fletcher looked at my uncle, trying to make sense of his statement. Wayne’s logic sometimes defied explanation. Of course Tommy Lee would take the case, that was his job. The question was would Tommy Lee conduct a funeral if I were laid up in the hospital? He would damn sure try.
“Right,” I agreed, and winked at Fletcher. “But Tommy Lee doesn’t also work in a funeral home.”
“It’s your brain he wants,” Wayne said. “You can use that here.”
“He’s asked me to become a deputy and head up the investigation.”
“A deputy?” Mom glanced at her brother. “Full time?”
“He knows I can’t be full time, but as much time as I can spare. The department is small and with Tommy Lee out he’s put Reece Hutchins in charge of all administrative duties.”
Uncle Wayne shook his head. “Reece Hutchins couldn’t find his own nose if it were right there on his face.”
“Don’t be ugly.” Mom smiled apologetically at Fletcher.
Wayne didn’t look at all apologetic. “I’ll talk to Freddy about giving us more help.”
Mom shook her head. “Freddy was complaining yesterday that he’s over promised the Florida people.”
Freddy Mott had worked part time for us for years. He was invaluable whenever we had funerals close together or a larger than normal service. But Freddy also worked as a carpenter and handyman, and the summer people always had projects for him. He made a lot more money hammering nails than lifting caskets.
“Florida people.” Wayne waved his hand dismissively. “Tommy Lee’s one of our own, Connie.”
As brother and sister, the only physical trait they shared was curly white hair. My uncle was older, taller, and set in his ways. Mom stood a little over five feet and would make the perfect kindly plump grandmother if I ever remarried and contributed to the gene pool. Still they were as close as a brother and sister could be. If anybody picked on one, he’d have to deal with the wrath of the other. But they could punch each other’s buttons and raise a simple disagreement into an intractable debate.
Fletcher put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “I can help as much as you need me.”
“But Barry’s supposed to be teaching you,” Wayne said.
Fletcher turned to my uncle. “Mr. Thompson, I know I can learn so much from you.”
Wayne blushed and cleared his throat. “Well, there’s that.”
I smiled. The kid would do all right. “And Tommy Lee promised to fire me as soon as we wrap things up.”
“Won’t it be dangerous?” Mom asked. “The man had a gun.”
“We’re just trying to find out who he was. His wife died a few weeks ago in Florida and he may have simply snapped.” I didn’t tell her I’d witnessed the target of his attack throw a girl into the line of fire. Or the credit card. “I’ll be fine, Mom.”
She turned to Fletcher. “He has a scar for every time he’s said that.”
Dad stood up holding his empty glass. He looked around the room in alarm until he saw my mother right next to him. “Home.”
“I’ll take him upstairs.” Mom took the glass from Dad’s hand and walked him slowly from the room.
“He’s doing that more and more,” Wayne said. “Just breaks your heart.”
Fletcher stared at the floor. What could he say?
“Thank you for coming in,” I told him. “Looks like you’re
going to have a busy summer.”
“That’s what I wanted, but I hate it’s under these circumstances.”
“You make your plans, and then life happens.” Uncle Wayne the philosopher leaned back in the armchair. “Make sure Barry gives you my number in case you need to reach me.”
“Good. I’ll put it in my cell.”
“Your cell?” Uncle Wayne looked at me. “You’ve got him staying in Tommy Lee’s jail?”
“His cell phone, Uncle Wayne. Not everybody still uses a rotary dial.”
“Nothing wrong with my phone. I’m either home or here.” He thought for a second. “If he’s going to be on twenty-four-hour call, he ought to stay with me.”
A flash of panic crossed Fletcher’s face. Round the clock with Uncle Wayne would have frightened me as well.
“He’s got an apartment out at Daleview Manor,” I said. “That’s much closer and he can hop on the interstate to get to Asheville where there’s some nightlife.”
Uncle Wayne grunted. “Nightlife. I got possums and raccoons. An owl or two.” Then he laughed. “Yeah, I wasn’t born yesterday. Young fellow like you’d be more interested in foxes. I know. I watch TV.”
Uncle Wayne wasn’t born yesterday by a long stretch, but if the lifelong bachelor had ever been on a date, the girl probably had worn a hoop skirt.
As soon as the family meeting was over, I phoned Reece and told him he could write the memo announcing my appointment as a deputy sheriff. I realized I’d actually made up my mind in Tommy Lee’s hospital room, but wouldn’t admit it to myself until seeing Mom and Uncle Wayne. Now that I had their blessing I was eager to jump on the case.
I asked Reece to begin the search for a man named Lincoln and to give me the number for the Delray Police Department. I planned on calling them personally. I could tell Reece still wasn’t happy about my role in the department, but I knew he would do his job.
Final Undertaking: A Buryin' Barry Mystery (Buryin' Barry Series) Page 4
