Foolish Undertaking: A Buryin' Barry Mystery (Buryin' Barry Series Book 3)

by Mark de Castrique

  I turned to Captain Randall. “When is General Weathers scheduled to arrive?”

  “About eight tonight. I’ve got a military vehicle from Fort Jackson, and I’m going back to meet him. He planned to have breakfast tomorrow with Y’Suom and then we’re scheduled to take a commercial flight to Dulles to brief a congressional committee.”

  “I’m the chair of that committee,” Millen said.

  “And Franklin Talbert?”

  “His publicist called me.” Bruce Nickles made no effort to hide his disdain. “Talbert’s scheduled to get into the Asheville airport tomorrow afternoon. That’s the quickest he can be here from his shoot in Australia. The publicist wanted me to give Talbert’s regards to the senator and the general.”

  “I can tell you what General Weathers will do with his regards.” Randall’s tone was sarcastic.

  “He’s coming to see Y’Suom.” Millen glared at Randall. “Not me or Stormy.”

  “He’s coming late so he doesn’t have to share the stage,” Randall grumbled. “That’s what he’s doing.”

  I saw the opportunity. “Senator Millen, can you possibly slide back your hearing two days?”

  “Well, we were working around Stormy’s schedule.”

  “Now you and the general both have a compelling reason to postpone,” I said. “We could reschedule Y’Grok’s service for Thursday. I can announce that Y’Suom has decided to delay the service because a number of his father’s friends aren’t able to arrive in time.”

  “We really can’t sit here for three days,” Nickles said. “The senator has a very busy schedule.”

  I put the phone to my ear. “What do you think, Tommy Lee?”

  “I think Ryan should remember what Y’Grok did for him. The lives that man saved are worth him sitting on his fat ass for a few days, and I expect him to assist my investigation any way he can. Tell him that.”

  Kevin was grinning at me. He had a good idea of Tommy Lee’s opinion.

  I looked squarely at Senator Millen. “The sheriff might need your help. He thinks what Y’Grok did for you merits a couple days of your time.”

  Bruce Nickles looked at his boss, waiting for a cue.

  “And he’s absolutely right,” Millen replied. “Although I expect you cleaned him up a bit.”

  I stepped closer to Y’Suom. “Is that okay with you?”

  “What about the people who have come? The ones who drove all night? They’re why I scheduled the funeral for today.”

  “Tommy Lee and I’ll work something out.”

  “If the senator is delaying the briefing, then General Weathers should be fine, especially when he hears the real reason.” Captain Randall cleared his throat. “I’d like to make one suggestion. I don’t think Bruce should notify Talbert’s publicist. If Talbert does have a personal agenda, I don’t think we should give him another reason to delay his arrival.”

  “A good point,” Nickles agreed. “But he could hear some other way.”

  Randall shook his head. “I doubt it. He’s on a movie set and then he’ll be on a plane. Once he’s in the air, he can’t turn back.”

  “What about the media?” Kevin asked.

  Millen turned to Nickles. “Bruce, you can help.”

  Nickles smiled. “Let’s play it like Barry suggests. I’ll add the delay will also allow General Weathers and you to jointly prepare for the briefing. That’s a little unorthodox, but we’re at war with terrorists and it’ll reinforce that you and the general are on the same side.”

  “I’ll need to clear that with General Weathers,” Randall said.

  Millen smiled at the captain. “And if Stormy says no, that’s okay.”

  I took a deep breath and relaxed. Pieces of a plan were falling into place. Except for one minor detail. Where the hell was Y’Grok’s body?

  The unspoken question wasn’t lost on Nickles. “And if we haven’t retrieved Mr. Eban’s body by Thursday?”

  “Then I suggest you and Tommy Lee hold a joint press conference, Mr. Nickles. You can say the senator was cooperating with the authorities who requested silence while they tracked fresh leads, and Tommy Lee can make an appeal to the public for new information. Then we’ll have a memorial service without the body.”

  Kevin patted Y’Suom’s knee. “Don’t worry. Tommy Lee and I’ll work round the clock. And Barry used to be a damned good policeman himself.”

  The men looked at me with new respect.

  “I can make some confidential inquiries and see if this merits FBI involvement,” Millen said.

  “Military police as well,” Randall offered.

  “Thanks.” Kevin gave Randall an appreciative look. “But let’s see what we can turn up first. If the bastard makes a political ultimatum, then we might deal ourselves some extra cards.”

  I turned to Nickles. “Don’t bother with the Gainesboro Vista. I’ll talk to the reporter.” I hoped I could count on Melissa Bigham’s cooperation.

  Nickles eyed my cell phone. “Both of you give me the fastest way to reach you.”

  “Reach me through Barry or Tommy Lee,” said Kevin.

  “What’s the fastest way to him?”

  I was hesitant to give out Tommy Lee’s private cell. I raised my phone. “Let me step out in the hall and go over some things with Tommy Lee.”

  I closed the door behind me and walked twenty feet toward the elevator. “You hear all that?”

  “Yeah.” Tommy Lee’s voice crackled in the weakened reception. “Go ahead and give them this number.” He paused. “You bought us the extra days, but I wish I knew what the hell to do with them.”

  I moved to a hall window hoping to increase the signal strength. The mountain across the valley had a distinct band of light green running from the base to a third of the way to the ridge crest. In the Appalachians, altitude corresponded to latitude and the growing season near the peaks was closer to New England’s. Each day spring crept higher up the slopes as new leaves appeared. “Maybe the crime lab will turn something up.”

  “Maybe,” he grunted. “I asked your mother not to feed or water Democrat this morning.”

  “Why?”

  “On the off chance the little booger got a piece of the guy or at least some of his clothing. He doesn’t floss, does he?”

  “Not yet. We’re still working on gargling.” My police pride smarted that I hadn’t thought about that evidence possibility.

  “Good. You and Kevin heading back?”

  I looked at my watch. “We’ll be there around nine.”

  “I’ll cover the people here on the delay. You said we’d work out what to do with them. Any ideas?”

  I was glad Tommy Lee couldn’t see my grin. “Yeah. Ever heard of Daniel Boone?”

  As Kevin drove down the interstate, I swallowed two more Tylenol without water. The pain in my head had returned as a dull ache.

  Kevin cut his eyes to me. “You’re thinking pretty clear for a guy who took a hard zap. Want me to stop at a drugstore for anything?”

  “No. Let’s just get back.”

  Kevin set the cruise control and settled into his seat. “I’ve been thinking. Did you have any personal belongings of Y’Grok at the funeral home?”

  “Harvey Collins brought by the burial clothes.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “The Lutheran social worker from Hickory. Y’Suom spoke with him from Korea. His father didn’t bring much from Vietnam.”

  “I bet Y’Grok got out by the skin of his teeth.”

  “Why’d he wait so long? Y’Suom arrived in ’86.”

  “Y’Suom was only eight then. A new round of persecutions had started and Y’Grok and his wife wanted the boy safe. He trusted we’d look after him.”

  “We?”

  “Those vets who haven’t forgotten the Montagnards.”

  I remembered the tension back in the hotel room. “Is that what was going on between Senator Millen and Captain Randall?”

  “Partly. You see Ryan’s been critical
of the way his own administration has been prosecuting the war on terrorism. He’s had some sharp exchanges with Stormy, and Captain Randall’s thin skinned about it.”

  “So Randall wasn’t angry about the Montagnards?”

  “I’m just saying that’s extra fuel for Randall’s fire. Some of us are pissed at Ryan because he bottled up a human rights resolution condemning Vietnamese persecution and the confiscation of Montagnard tribal lands. The bill would have imposed sanctions.”

  “Why’d he do that?”

  “He claimed the sanctions wouldn’t work and would only make the Vietnamese more determined to show they wouldn’t cave under U.S. pressure. They consider the Montagnards an internal affair.”

  “How do the Montagnards feel?”

  “Betrayed.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “How do I feel?” Kevin drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “It’s more how I believe. I like to think loyalty and honor still mean something.”

  “And you believe the senator doesn’t?”

  “I’m not saying that. Our late congressman Tip O’Neill used to claim all politics is local. If Ryan were a North Carolina senator with the largest constituency of Montagnards outside Vietnam, he might have acted differently. And he’s not alone. John McCain and John Kerry share his views.” Kevin shook his head. “Me. After thirty years on the Boston police force, and seeing my fellow citizens abuse and murder each other in more ways than imaginable, I guess I like to hold onto whatever ideals I can still find. Loyalty and honor are more than words to the Yards.”

  I gazed out at the surrounding hills and wondered if they were anything like the central highlands of Vietnam. Were they what brought Y’Grok to our area to die? Alone, away from even his own people?

  “But Ryan came here for the funeral,” Kevin continued. “I’ll give the senator credit for that.”

  We rode along in silence for a few miles. Then I remembered Kevin’s original question.

  “Why are you interested in Y’Grok’s belongings?”

  He hesitated a few seconds. “Just a thought. Someone broke into your funeral home because of Y’Grok. The guy may have been looking for more than a body.”

  “All the hospital sent over was a bag of clothes. They must have been what he was wearing when he died.”

  Kevin glanced at me. “I didn’t realize he died in the hospital.”

  “He didn’t. Harvey Collins told me Y’Grok had refused to go to the hospital. He stayed on a piece of land up here owned by some guys in the Hickory VFW. A hunt club. When Collins drove up to check on him last Friday, he found the body. He’d been dead about a day.”

  “Tough old bird,” Kevin said. “I think he finally came out of Vietnam because he knew he was dying. Hoped to see Y’Suom again.”

  I’d performed enough funerals to know the ravages of lung cancer. “I’d say it came quick at the end. He could have been walking around in the morning and dead by dusk.”

  “I know. Lung cancer killed my father.”

  I didn’t ask for details. Kevin knew well enough how desperate Y’Grok’s last breaths would have been. “When Collins found the body, he called Tommy Lee. They’d been expecting it. They brought Y’Grok down to be officially pronounced dead. No autopsy required.”

  “Then his stuff’s still up there.”

  “I suppose. We’ll need to make arrangements to have Y’Suom go through them.”

  “Might be good for me to go with him.”

  The forced nonchalance in his voice caught my attention. “You’re looking for something, aren’t you? Either with his clothes or at the place where he died.”

  He laughed. “Tommy Lee told me you were sharp. I should have remembered that.”

  I took a shot in the dark. “The theft of Y’Grok’s body’s about Raven, isn’t it?”

  My statement choked off his laughter. A hard glint flashed in his eyes and a tough cop broke through the congenial surface. “If you’re sharp, you’ll be careful where you say that word.”

  “It was obvious that Senator Millen didn’t want me asking about it. What’s Raven got to do with Y’Grok?”

  Kevin didn’t speak.

  Frustration drove my voice higher. “I’m the one who was knocked senseless this morning. I’m the one who has to conduct a funeral without a body. If you know something, tell me. Otherwise, I’m having a much different conversation with the reporter at the Vista.”

  Kevin’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “And you’ll screw everything up. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  He looked in the rearview mirror like someone could be eavesdropping in the backseat. “All right. But it’s my call who else gets this information.”

  I pointed to the upcoming exit ramp. “Here’s I-26.”

  Kevin had pulled into the passing lane and was about to blow right past our exit. He slowed and cut in front of a minivan to make the turn. When he’d regained cruising speed, he started talking. “Last week I received a letter at my district from Y’Grok. I’d learned he’d arrived in North Carolina and I sent word through some vets for him to contact me. I’d expected him to phone, but I guess he wasn’t comfortable doing that. In his world, staying secretive meant staying alive.”

  “Even here?”

  “Somehow Y’Grok escaped through Cambodia. It’s the only way the Yards can get out. Now, those refugee camps are closed and they’ve been forced back into Vietnam. He’d only been here a few months and wasn’t sure who to trust. His son was stationed in Korea.”

  “What was in the letter?”

  “A few words. He said he was dying. He’d found Tommy Lee and he had a place to meet me.”

  “You were coming here anyway?”

  “Yeah. I got Tommy Lee’s call about Y’Grok’s death on Saturday. I already had my ticket.”

  “What’s all that have to do with Raven?”

  “His last line of the letter. ‘Raven come home’ and ‘you see.’”

  I thought of Poe’s poem and the bird that wouldn’t leave.

  “Raven was the network,” Kevin explained. “The one I told you about. A sort of underground railroad that got downed pilots and isolated infantry grunts out of enemy territory. Raven became the code name for the operation.”

  “Why didn’t Y’Grok tell Tommy Lee?”

  “Tommy Lee was never part of Raven. He’d already been wounded and shipped home. Ryan Millen was one of the pilots smuggled out, Talbert was a military intelligence operative on the ground, and Stormy Weathers had oversight.”

  “But you’re the one Y’Grok turned to.”

  “That’s right. And I’m not going to screw this up.”

  I didn’t understand. Why would Kevin and Y’Grok be playing war games? What difference did it make now? “And you’re still trying to protect the operation?”

  “Raven was blown as an operation years ago. After the war, most of the Montagnards who helped us were caught and either executed or imprisoned.”

  “So what’s come home?”

  “Money.”

  I stared at Kevin, waiting for an explanation. His smile returned.

  “The Yards were fighting with us. It was their war of resistance, of independence. Understand, they weren’t mercenaries.”

  “Okay.”

  “But we provided funds to bribe officials and pay others to help. Some of the cash was funneled through Y’Grok, but I doubt he ever used much, if any. The money might be thirty-five years old, but it’s still very spendable.”

  “How much?”

  Kevin made a short clicking sound with his tongue. “Military intelligence liked round numbers. I know of at least a hundred thousand dollars delivered to Y’Grok. More would have gone to other operatives. I figure close to a million dollars was circulated to fund Raven. That’s a nice ransom figure, don’t you think?”

  Chapter Six

  Small clusters of people milled around the fr
ont lawn of the funeral home. Most were dark-skinned Montagnards. Several children appeared to be playing tag. A few men in camo fatigues were standing beside a flag hoisted on a pole they’d stuck in the ground. Flapping in the breeze was the emblem of an eagle soaring down on Southeast Asia. The words “Rolling Thunder” were stitched above it.

  Cars lined the side street and the shoulder of the main road. A man and woman wearing dark clothes with thin rows of colorful embroidered patterns stood close to the highway. They held a white banner unfurled between them. Across the top in bold letters read “United Dega People.” Beneath the phrase was a flag with three stripes of green, white, and red. A bull elephant was in its center. Beside the flag were written the words, “We want to be free to live in peace in Vietnam.”

  “Looks like they’re creating a political rally,” Kevin said.

  As we approached our driveway, a deputy stepped from behind a patrol car and signaled us to stop.

  “Reece Hutchins,” I whispered to Kevin.

  He rolled down the window. “Deputy Hutchins.”

  Reece was surprised to be addressed by someone he didn’t know. He peered past Kevin to me. “You okay, Barry?”

  “Yes. This is Kevin Malone. Old friend of the sheriff.”

  Kevin stuck his hand out the window. “Tommy Lee’s told me a lot about you.”

  Reece took Kevin’s words as a compliment. “Boston detective, right?”

  “You pegged me. Where’s Tommy Lee?”

  “With the crime lab. We put them around the other side of the garage near the scene.”

  “Good,” I said. “What’s the official word?”

  Reece puffed himself up. “Break-in. Least that’s what we told those people out front. Sheriff gave me the scoop on the body, but no one’s getting that out of me.”

  “Good job.” Kevin gave Reece an appreciative nod. “We could use some men like you in Boston.”

  That flushed Reece’s broad ears with pride. “You can pull around my car and park by the garage.”

  “Anybody else here from town?” I asked.

  “Not yet. Sheriff told me to keep a lookout for the mayor.”