“All right, Roy. Let me give you the long version over the phone so I can keep the written summary short.” I told him what we knew about Crystal and the possible connection to a job in the health care industry.
“Sounds like a version of what we busted down here,” Spring said.
“Maybe someone’s franchising the OxyContin business and Lincoln has the golden arches for western North Carolina.”
“I’ll keep you posted on the case down here so you can look for similarities. Good luck when the feds come trampling through your investigation.” Spring hung up.
I found the DEA website and read Tommy Lee the news release. The information provided a few more details, but Spring had already given us the essentials.
Tommy Lee shifted in his chair, trying to keep the hospital gown intact. “Trouble is we don’t know if Lincoln was a little fish in a big Delray Beach pond or a big fish in a little Gainesboro pond.”
I opened a blank Word document to begin my case narrative for Lieutenant Spring. “Maybe he’s a frog jumping from puddle to puddle.”
A knock came from the door behind me.
A raspy voice said, “I don’t know about frogs, but it’s time my patient hopped back in bed.”
I turned and saw Susan crossing to Tommy Lee. “You sound terrible. You’re the one who should be in bed.”
“Actually I feel a little better. My head’s clogged but at least my nose isn’t running like a leaky faucet. I prescribed myself an antibiotic and an allergy medication. I suspect there might be a touch of a sinus infection.”
“Do you file an insurance claim for a doctor’s visit?” Tommy Lee asked.
“Only if I want a command performance before the medical examination board. Technically I should have had O’Malley write my prescription, but Doug Larson knows I don’t abuse erythromycin. It’s not exactly a party drug.”
“Not like OxyContin.” I gave Susan a brief update, including our inquiries as to Crystal’s new job possibilities.
“I’ll make sure the clinic responds to the fax.” She took Tommy Lee’s arm and helped him back in bed. “You’ve sat up enough today. Tomorrow we’ll break it up—some in the morning and some in the afternoon.”
Tommy Lee gave a slight groan as he slid across the sheet. His face paled with the exertion and I knew his workday was over.
“Are you about through?” Susan asked me.
“I’ve just got to type a short report. You want to grab supper later?”
She shook her head. “I’m going to take your advice and go to bed early. The antibiotics sap my strength. My goal’s to shake this cold by the weekend and then your job will be to show me a good time.”
“Doctor’s orders,” Tommy Lee mumbled.
“No argument from me. We’re all due a good time.”
Susan blew me a kiss as she left. I spent thirty minutes compiling my report to Lieutenant Spring, and for twenty-nine of those minutes, I listened to Tommy Lee snore.
“Did you get Dad a doctor’s appointment?” I asked Mom as she set a plate of hot fried chicken and steamed asparagus in front of me. Her invitation to join her for supper meant I wouldn’t endure leftovers at my cabin.
“Yes, I’m taking him at ten tomorrow morning.”
Democrat whined beside me, enticed by the aroma. I snapped my fingers and pointed to his bed in the corner of the kitchen. He might not be the best trained dog in the world, but I never allowed him to beg at the table. He slunk over and lay down.
Mom sat across from me. “Democrat looks so pitiful.”
“He’s been fed. He’s doing that for your benefit so don’t sneak him anything.”
Mom laughed. “Don’t be critical. I saw the same look on your face when you walked in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, but I’m cuter.”
“I invited Fletcher to eat with us, but he wanted to drop by the hospital.”
“More for me.” I took a bite from a leg.
“He likes Cindy, doesn’t he?”
“What’s not to like? And he feels bad she got shot.”
Mom was the only person I knew who didn’t eat chicken with her fingers. Instead, she delicately cut the meat away from a thigh. “Fletcher’s a nice boy. He worked hard with Freddy this afternoon. And he spent some time on the phone with Mildred Cosgrove’s family. Now we’ve only got a few more things to do before the visitation tomorrow night.”
“Did Uncle Wayne come back?”
Mom eyed me suspiciously. “What’s he up to? He stopped by to check in with Freddy and told me he was helping you.”
“Did he look like he’d walked out of an episode of ‘Love Boat’ meets ‘Gilligan’s Island’?”
“Yes. And he had on bowling shoes. He hasn’t gone bowling in over thirty years. Should I take him to the doctor as well?”
“No. He’s taken up shuffleboard. At least for one afternoon. Mr. Kowalski often played here.”
Mom set down her fork. “Your uncle’s not in danger, is he?”
In my mind, I saw Wayne at the table with the four elderly women. “Not the kind you think.”
She shook her head, knowing it was better not to ask.
After supper I took a cup of coffee back to my office and called my uncle. I wanted to tell him Ruth was the woman deserving his attention. The phone rang a long time and I thought he must have gone to bed early after his exhausting ordeal. At last a whispery voice answered, “Hello.”
“Uncle Wayne?”
“Barry.” His voice regained its strength.
“Are you all right?”
“I thought you were one of the women. Three of them called tonight.”
“About Lincoln?”
“No. About going to Friday’s street dance. They want me to be their escort.”
“You’d go with all three?”
“They asked me separately, but I ain’t going with none of them.”
I set my coffee on the desk and leaned back, maliciously enjoying my uncle’s dilemma. “You should have held back the charm this morning.”
“I was just being friendly. Maybe it was the shirt. They must think I get around.”
I bit my knuckles to keep from laughing.
“I should have minded my own business.”
I felt sorry for the old guy. “You were just trying to help me, Uncle Wayne. I appreciate it. Was Ruth one of the three who called you?”
“No. I thought sure you were going to be her.”
“She’s the one most likely to see Lincoln again.”
“I don’t have to take her to the dance, do I?” He sounded like a little kid whining at his chores.
“No, just be nice to her. Tell her you have to help your nephew Friday night.”
I heard him take in a breath and knew the crisis had passed.
“Okay. But I’m never going within ten miles of those shuffleboard courts again.”
I took my coffee and Democrat upstairs to spend some time with Dad. At the top of the steps, I held the lab’s collar while I undid the safety gate. Otherwise Democrat could bound into the den and startle my father. Dad loved having the dog in the room, but sudden appearances made him anxious.
Dad sat in his easy chair and studied the back of his hands. The TV played an unwatched episode of “Sponge Bob Square Pants.” I think my father just liked the sound of the character voices because when I’d turned it off in the past, he became agitated.
Dad’s face was flushed and his breathing a little labored. Mom hadn’t changed him out of his pajamas from last night and when I walked in, he spoke only one word. “Bed.”
I patted one of his hands. “No. It’s not time yet. Democrat and I came up to visit.”
The dog gently laid his head on my dad’s knee.
“Democrat,” Dad repeated. He scratched behind the dog’s ear and said the name again.
Sometimes this went on for two minutes or twenty minutes. Neither Dad nor Democrat seemed to mind.
Not only was my father’s col
or off, but his face seemed puffy. I reached out slowly and touched his forehead. His skin felt warm although the room was cool. I knew there should be a thermometer in the bathroom and I thought Democrat would provide a distraction so that I could check my dad for a fever without too much resistance.
As I stepped into the hall, my cell phone vibrated.
“Barry. It’s Fletcher.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“What is it?”
“I think I’ve found Lincoln.”
My heart raced and I headed down the stairs. “Where?”
“Here. At my apartment complex. When I came in from the hospital, I noticed a blue Lincoln parked a few spaces away.”
“Does it have a Florida plate?”
“No. North Carolina. I know that’s wrong, but the only inspection sticker on the windshield is from Florida. So is the dealership insignia on the trunk.”
“He switched plates so we wouldn’t spot his car.”
“What should I do?”
I mouthed “I’ll be back” to Mom as I passed through the kitchen and out the back door.
“Barry?”
“I’m thinking.” I didn’t want Fletcher confronting Lincoln and I would need backup from the department. “Can you see his car from where you are?”
“No. There’s a van blocking my view. The Lincoln’s closer to the exit. That’s how I noticed it as I drove in.”
“Then try to find a spot where you can watch it. Maybe move your car out on the street. Don’t stop him. If he leaves, follow from a safe distance and phone in. I’m on my way.”
One nice thing about a small town is that everyone is ten minutes away from everything. I speed-dialed the Sheriff’s Department as I started my jeep. “This is an emergency,” I told the dispatcher. “Get me Reece.”
Reece must have been in the office because he picked up immediately.
“Hutchins here.”
“Reece, it’s Barry. I think we’ve found Lincoln.”
“Where?”
“Daleview Manor. My intern’s staying there and he noticed a car that matches the description. I’m on my way. Can you send two men?”
“Me and Wakefield.”
I paused to find the right words. “Reece, I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding at the scene. This is my collar and we need to play it my way for the good of the whole investigation.”
For a few seconds, I heard only silence. Reece was also choosing his words.
“Then I’ll try not to screw it up.”
I let his sarcasm roll off me. “Come in quietly and park where you won’t spook him. I’ll probably be in the manager’s office.”
Daleview Manor was a glorified single-story mom-and-pop motel. Minor renovations had changed paired rooms into so-called suites with one side converted into a living room and kitchenette. They were clean and popular with the retirees who didn’t have the money to rent a summer cottage.
By the time I arrived, the evening darkness had descended enough to trigger the streetlights and I saw Fletcher’s convertible parked in the dimmest point between two of them. The parking lot entrance was bordered on either side by a thick boxwood hedge. I positioned my jeep diagonally across the single lane and raised the hood like I had engine trouble.
Fletcher walked up beside me. “Smart move. He’ll have to leave on foot.”
“I’m going into the office. You pretend to be the jeep’s owner.” I handed Fletcher a flashlight from the glove compartment and locked the doors. “Anyone wants you to push the jeep aside, tell them the transmission’s locked up and a wrecker’s on the way.”
I left him to play his role and walked up to a unit with the word Manager on the door. From inside, I could hear one of the cable news shows with all the guests screaming at once. I knocked loudly.
In less than a minute, the door opened and an older man with thinning gray hair stepped out. Although I didn’t know his name, I’d seen him around town. At first I thought he was wearing orange lipstick, but when he raised his hand, I noticed his fingers were the same color. He’d been snacking on Cheetos.
“Sorry. We’re full up.”
I showed my identification. “You’ve got a guest we need to speak with.”
He licked his orange lips nervously. “We run a good place here.”
“What’s your name?”
“Sid Mulray.”
“I know you run a good place. But the guy I want is not so good. Bring the passkey.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “What should I tell my wife?”
“That Fletcher Shaw has a plumbing problem.”
His eyes widened. “He’s the guy? He seemed so nice.”
“He is nice. He’s not the one. I’m looking for the man who drives the blue Lincoln.”
“Mr. Wilson? He just checked in this afternoon. Called for the last unit.”
“Then let’s go welcome him.” I had an idea. “Bring a registration form.”
“But he filled one out when he got his key.”
“And you just spilled coffee on it, didn’t you?”
Mulray smiled. “I guess I did.”
As Mulray went back inside, Reece and Wakefield arrived. I gave them a quick rundown.
“The manager said he just checked in this afternoon. Going by the name of Wilson. I’m having the manager knock on the door. Reece, you and I’ll stand out of sight to either side. When the door opens, I’ll ease where I can see him. If it’s Lincoln, we’ll arrest him for credit card theft and sort the other charges out later. Wakefield, when we know the unit, I’ll want you behind it in case he gets suspicious and escapes out the back.”
Mulray came out, surprised to see the reinforcements. “There won’t be any shooting, will there?”
“No. We do this all the time.”
“All the time,” echoed Reece and Wakefield.
“What’s the unit number and how can we get behind it?” I asked.
“Number seven. It’s third from the end. There’s an alley just beyond the hedge, but there’s no back doors. Only a bathroom window.”
I nodded to Wakefield. “We’ll give you a couple minutes to get in position. My intern’s got the parking lot blocked with my jeep.”
Wakefield unsnapped his holster and left.
“What do you want me to do?” Mulray’s voice had acquired a distinct quiver.
“Knock on the door. Tell him you hate to bother him but you need his signature again.”
He nodded. I hoped the twilight would mask the fear in his eyes.
Daleview Manor was laid out in a horseshoe. Reece and I flanked Mulray as he walked to the row of units on the opposite wing. Mulray stood on the mat in front of the peep hole. Reece stepped back to the left and I took the right, where I wouldn’t have to cross Mulray to get to Lincoln. I nodded to both men. Reece drew his sidearm. As Mulray knocked, I unsnapped the catch on my holster but left the gun on my hip. Reece would cover both of us.
“Mr. Wilson.”
No answer. No noise at all from inside.
“Maybe he’s in the bathroom,” Mulray whispered.
“Knock louder,” I said.
He pounded the door so hard Reece jumped.
“Mr. Wilson. It’s Sid Mulray, the manager.”
Still no sound.
“Wait a few minutes,” I said.
We stood still. At least Reece and I did. Mulray’s knees were shaking.
“Okay, try it again, but easier on the knock.”
“Mr. Wilson.” He pounded the door three times. Nothing.
I stepped closer to Mulray. “Do we have your permission to enter?”
He held out the passkey. “Be my guest.”
I took the key from his trembling orange fingers and turned the lock. The door opened without the hindrance of a security chain. Shadows masked the details of the interior. I saw the outline of a coffee table, the shape of a sofa, and an indistinguishable lump sprawled across its cushions.
“Mr. Wilson
.” I stepped into the room and flipped on the lights.
An overhead bulb illuminated the room. Artie Lincoln was lying face up on the sofa, his head turned toward its back. An empty Seagram’s bottle sat on the coffee table. There were no drinking glasses.
Reece laughed. “So much for me screwing up your arrest. He’s dead drunk.”
I walked forward a few steps and saw Lincoln’s open eyes staring into the floral upholstery.
“No. He’s just dead.”
Chapter Thirteen
I went through the ritual of checking for a pulse. Nothing. Lincoln’s skin felt warm, but the June night was warmer. Although I’m not a medical examiner, I estimated Lincoln had died within the hour. My cell phone rang. I glanced at the incoming number. The funeral home. Uncle Wayne probably had a question about Mildred Cosgrove’s visitation. I let it go to voicemail. One body at a time was my limit.
“Reece, get Wakefield. And see if Asheville can spare their mobile lab.”
Reece frowned. “That’ll cost money.”
“Damn it, we’ll use the merchants’ donation to cover it.”
Asheville had a state of the art mobile crime lab and I didn’t want to miss any evidence.
Reece still hesitated. “What about Clark?”
“Have the dispatcher page him, but I want that mobile here PDQ.”
Ezra Clark was Laurel County’s aging coroner. He’d held the elected position for nearly thirty years because the voters didn’t have the heart to turn him out. Tommy Lee had an unwritten policy to have a more competent medical examiner review any death that occurred under suspicious circumstances. I’d have Lincoln’s body sent to Asheville.
Reece holstered his gun. “That all?”
I knew Reece itched to be in charge and I didn’t want him sulking underfoot. “Do what you think is best for controlling any media or gawkers. And if you could interview the neighbors that would move things along.”
Reece nodded. “Yeah. Maybe Wakefield and I should split up to get to them faster. Before they start talking to each other and creating a story.”
“Good point.”
Reece smirked. “I have a good idea every once in a while. Let me know if you need anything else.”
As Reece left, I turned to Sid Mulray. He was staring at Lincoln’s bodylike it might jump up and bite him.
Final Undertaking: A Buryin' Barry Mystery (Buryin' Barry Series) Page 14
