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

by Mark de Castrique

  Y’Grok’s room was dark and damp. Water blew in under the eaves and trickled down the wall that faced the brunt of the wind. I remembered the matches on the stove and lit the kerosene lamp on the table and the two hanging from the beams.

  Melissa turned in a full circle, taking in the illuminated space, and then sat in the straight-back chair. “This is where he lived?”

  “And died.” I set the ammo case on the table. The handle on the top was twisted to one side, but the clamps holding the lid seemed firmly in place. Dents and rust marred the metal finish. The box looked like it had survived a war. I guess it had.

  Melissa gripped the near corner. “I’m amazed Y’Grok was able to smuggle this out of Vietnam.”

  “I don’t think they know exactly how Y’Grok got out of Vietnam. He didn’t come through any resettlement agency.” I looked at Melissa. “Ready?”

  She withdrew her hand and I snapped the clamps free. The lid flipped back and revealed a dirty oilskin. No water beaded on its surface. I lifted the bundle and found a second oilskin underneath. I laid the first on the table. The cloth had been wrapped lengthwise around an object about six inches by four inches and an inch or two thick. The ends had been tucked in and the whole parcel tied with cord. The knot had been pulled so tight that time had merged the strands into a solid mass.

  I found a knife on the stove and cut the cord away. Melissa leaned closer as I unraveled the oilskin down to a manila envelope slightly larger than a business letter. A clasp had long ago broken off and the flap was simply stuffed inside. Carefully, I probed a finger under the edge and opened the envelope. I lifted the other end and a stack of dirty hundred dollar bills slid onto the table.

  Melissa stood up. “You were right. He brought back the money.”

  I looked at the grungy stack of bills. “But we’re not talking anywhere near a million dollars.”

  “Maybe there’s more bundles.”

  “If they’re all hundreds, we’d need ten thousand of these bills.” I lifted out the second oilskin. It had filled the rest of the case. The cloth’s contents felt lumpy and hard. I smiled. “Unless he converted the money to gold or diamonds.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  Our pain and exhaustion were forgotten. I pushed the money to one side and made plenty of room for the larger parcel. I cut the cord and Melissa helped me unravel the cloth. Neither of us wanted to dump nuggets or jewels onto the mill’s rough plank floor.

  No loose treasure appeared. The cloth protected a sack of coarse muslin, the neck of which was bound by a military dog tag. Although the metal was stainless steel, years had turned the chain and plate black. I held the tag against the globe of the lantern.

  Melissa’s wet hair brushed my cheek. “What’s it say?”

  “Raven, James A. There’s a serial number and no pref.”

  “Raven? Raven is a person?”

  A queasy feeling came over my stomach. “I don’t think we’re looking at nuggets of gold.” I used my fingernails to pry loose the knotted chain, and then folded back the neck of the bag.

  The flicker of the lantern danced over pieces of human bones.

  I clutched Melissa’s hand. “Raven’s come home.”

  The door to the mill flung open. Kevin Malone stood dripping on the threshold, the rain blowing in around him. He looked at us, and then the case on the table. His face turned hard and grim.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I’ll thank you to give me my property.”

  The first thought flashed through my mind—watch his hands. He’s carrying a pistol. The second thought—he shot his partner. I stepped aside. “This is evidence.”

  “No. Whatever’s in that case is mine. That’s what Y’Grok wanted and that’s the way it’s going to be.”

  “James Raven’s family might have something to say about that.”

  Kevin’s mouth fell open. “Jimmy? Jimmy Raven?”

  “James A. Raven. His dog tag sealed this bag of skeletal remains.”

  Kevin rushed forward, his drenched face pale and his eyes wide in disbelief. He laid a hand on one of the bones. Then he picked up the dog tag, read the stamped words, and clutched the tag to his chest. “Sweet Jesus. Y’Grok brought Jimmy back. All those miles and all those years. He brought Jimmy back.”

  I slid the envelope toward him. “There’s some money too.”

  Kevin snatched the envelope. He looked at Melissa and then at me. “A dying man brings the remains of a dead comrade halfway around the world. You can’t buy that kind of loyalty.” He leaned on the small table for support, and then crossed to the bed and sat down. He clasped the dog tag in one hand and the money in the other.

  I realized the bones changed everything. “So Y’Grok’s message has nothing to do with money from Operation Raven.”

  “The message has everything to do with Operation Raven. Jimmy Raven started the operation. At first we called it Yard Guard. It was a small underground network that linked some Montagnard villages together. The Yards would pass word along if they were hiding one of our boys. That’s how Ryan Millen got rescued.”

  “And the operation got more elaborate?”

  “The war escalated, which meant we had more downed pilots and stranded grunts. The Yards were so trustworthy we didn’t worry about betrayal. Stormy Weathers wanted the operation expanded and he brought in Military Intelligence operatives to run things.”

  “Like Franklin Talbert,” I said.

  “Yeah. Franklin came in and worked with Jimmy. By then I was down in one of the lower provinces.”

  “Was the operation changed to Raven because of Jimmy?”

  “Stormy renamed it Raven when Jimmy got killed. Jimmy died in a firefight, and the enemy overran the position. His body wasn’t recovered.”

  “Y’Grok must have gone back.”

  “He never forgot. I guess when he decided to come here he recovered the remains. A matter of honor.”

  I looked at the bone pieces. There was no skull or femur, nothing that wouldn’t fit into the ammo case. I picked up the envelope. “And returning the money would’ve been a matter of honor as well?”

  “Yes. He would’ve wanted to look us in the eye and return what he considered ours.” He looked at the envelope and read the scrawl on the back. “Received from U.S., $10,000.” As if to verify the statement, Kevin thumbed the stack like a deck of cards. “Where’s the rest of the money?”

  “That’s all that was in the case.”

  Kevin shook his head. “No. Y’Grok had been entrusted with ten times that.”

  “And I’m telling you, that’s all we found. We’d just opened the case when you stormed in.”

  “Then there must be a second case.” He looked at us like we were suspects in a line-up.

  I glared back at him. “Then you jump in that torrent and find it. This case and only this case was right where the tattoos placed it. There was nothing else there, and there was nothing else in the case but that packet of money and the bag of bones.”

  Melissa sat down in the chair and sighed. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Kevin. If there’s more money, we don’t know where it is. You should be asking why Y’Grok didn’t just turn these remains over to the MIA investigators.”

  Kevin shrugged. “Personal duty.”

  I looked at the bag. Somehow it seemed irreverent exposing the bones to the damp chilly air. I tucked the fabric closed. “Just strange he’d have gone to such lengths—the letter to you, the tattoos. Wouldn’t personal duty have been served by getting the remains to the family?”

  Kevin walked to the table and wrapped the money in the oilskin. “If Y’Grok could find the family. Jimmy was killed back in the Sixties. He had a young wife and infant son. I’m sure she remarried. Without access to army records, Y’Grok had no way of locating her.”

  “Did he ask you where she was?”

  “No.” Then Kevin thought a moment. “He might have asked about the son once.”

  “In t
he letter you got last week?”

  “No. That would have been years ago. About the time he smuggled Y’Suom out as a boy.”

  “How’d you stay in touch?”

  “Letters. I’d send duplicates mailed a week apart and hope one of them would make it. We knew they were censored. I had various addresses for him—names of friends or sympathizers who had ways of getting the letters into the central highlands.”

  “Did he ever write anything in code?”

  “Hell, yes. But more of reading between the lines than code. Things were bad. By the Eighties, most of the Raven network had been wiped out.”

  “Revenge?”

  “Partly. Mostly to crush any chance for organized Yard resistance to the persecution.”

  Melissa leaned forward, breaking into the conversation.

  “Wouldn’t your letters have fingered him?”

  “If they’d been addressed to him. That’s why they always went to a Vietnamese. There are sympathizers who believe their government’s policy is wrong. I never mentioned Y’Grok by name but he could read between the lines as well.”

  “Did you help Y’Suom?” I asked.

  “There were retired Special Forces families around Fort Bragg who took care of him. I sent a check now and then. Should have done more. When Y’Suom was old enough, he enlisted.”

  I looked at the bag of bones on the table and the oilskin of money Kevin clutched in both hands. “But Y’Grok sent for you, even though others had personally aided his son and Tommy Lee was nearby. Were you that much closer?”

  Kevin mulled the question. “I guess we were. I got the letter.”

  “And it came to your work? Is that where all the correspondence had been sent?”

  “No. That surprised me. Since I’ve had my recent trouble with the department, my mail’s been forwarded. I got the letter at home, but the address had been to work.”

  “So he knew you were a policeman?”

  Kevin laughed. “Oh, yeah. I’d even sent a photo of me receiving the award for Boston Detective of the Year. Wanted him to know I was still after the bad guys.”

  A light flickered in the back of my brain, but I wasn’t sure what was being illuminated. “And he sent his letter to your work,” I repeated to myself.

  “Even had detective underlined.” Kevin cocked his head. “Damn. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  Melissa stood up, trying to make sense of our incomplete phrases. “What are you talking about?”

  “A crime,” I said. “A crime Y’Grok wanted solved. A crime that might have cost Y’Suom his life.”

  “And been behind last night’s shooting,” Kevin added.

  “Shooting?” Melissa stepped between the two of us. “What shooting?”

  I gave Kevin a sharp stare. “Now you’ve done it.”

  “There was a shooting after the murder?” She patted her wet pockets, futilely searching for a notepad.

  Kevin said nothing.

  Melissa wheeled on me. “Okay, Barry. No games. What happened?”

  “Someone took a shot as we were coming out of my cabin. Before the party.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Talbert, Millen, and Weathers.”

  Her eyes widened. “Someone shot at a U.S. senator and a three-star general?”

  “And a two-bit actor,” Kevin said. “And don’t forget me, Tommy Lee, and Barry. What are we, chopped liver?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what?” Kevin asked. “For all we knew the shooter could have been some drunk deer hunter.”

  Melissa fumed. “Even I know you don’t hunt deer in April.”

  There was no use trying to hide the truth. “We made a decision to investigate without creating a media frenzy.”

  “Barry, I’m not sitting on this. At the rate we’re going, I’ll be retired before this story breaks.”

  “And what’s the story? We have pieces of evidence and we have bodies, but what connects them?”

  “Y’Grok connects them.” Kevin met Melissa eye to eye. “And if you print what you know, our killer might bolt. I think he was trying to keep us from finding this case. He took Y’Grok’s body, he killed Y’Grok’s son, and he fired a shot at one of us. We have a better chance of catching him if he thinks we’re still in the dark.”

  “But you figured the code out,” Melissa said.

  Kevin shook his head. “I didn’t crack the tattoos. Tommy Lee confided that the body had been returned. I went to the funeral home and spoke with Barry’s uncle. All he said was the two of you left in a hurry. I tried your phone and got no answer. I knew this spot was out of cell range and our prime contender for where Y’Grok would have hidden something. I played a hunch.”

  Melissa bit her lower lip. She wasn’t comfortable holding back so much explosive information.

  I weighed in with the best argument I could muster. “Look, we’re the only ones who know about this. I’m not saying we withhold evidence because we’ll tell Tommy Lee as soon as we can reach him. But Kevin’s right. The killer could disappear if he thinks we’ve found the evidence. I don’t think we should tell anyone else. Y’Grok must’ve had a damned good reason for trusting only Kevin.”

  “So how can you proceed?” Melissa asked.

  “That’s Tommy Lee’s call. But I’d like to get an unofficial examination of these bones, something that doesn’t generate a report from the medical examiner.”

  Kevin looked skeptical. “Will the M.E. do that?”

  “No. But Susan Miller will, and a surgeon’s eye might be enough to shed some light.”

  “That’s your girlfriend?”

  I nodded, smothering my uncertainty.

  “How do we know the theft of the body and Y’Suom’s murder aren’t all about the money?” Kevin asked. “I was expecting a lot more and someone else could have as well.”

  “We don’t know,” I said. “But I’d at least like to rule out the possibility that there’s more to Raven coming home than a simple return of money and remains.”

  Kevin separated the dog tag from the money. He looped the chain around the closed bag. “All right. But we keep both things secret, the money and the remains. For now we leave everybody in the dark except Tommy Lee. You head straight to Susan and after she’s had her examination, we’ll talk about the next step.”

  “I’m in,” Melissa said, “but I’m in all the way. No more withholding little tidbits like last night’s shooting.”

  Kevin took her hand. “Fair enough.”

  They looked at me. I trusted Kevin about as far as I could swim against the stream raging outside. What choice did I have? I placed my hand on top of theirs. The three musketeers. I hoped I didn’t get a sword in the back.

  Fortunately, I’d had the good sense to leave my cell phone in the jeep before my plunge into the stream. The instrument vibrated as soon as Melissa and I cleared Redman Gorge. It wasn’t a caller but a notice that I had two messages. Since I hate fooling with the phone while driving, especially in bad weather, I asked Melissa to read me the numbers.

  “I know this one by heart. It’s your cabin.”

  I slapped the steering wheel, and then winced as the splinters in my left hand dug deeper. “Franklin Talbert. I forgot about him. He’s been stuck up there all morning.”

  “Do you want me to call him?”

  “No. What’s the other number?”

  “The funeral home.”

  “Dial, and then give me the phone.”

  Uncle Wayne answered. As soon as I spoke, he interrupted.

  “People been looking for you all day. That Talbert fella called. You know he’s at your cabin?”

  “Yes. I’ll get him later.”

  “Don’t bother. Mayor Whitlock came by. When I said Talbert was at your cabin, the mayor fell all over himself to be the one to pick him up.”

  “Good. Saves me a trip.”

  “That Yankee detective fellow find you?”

  “Yes.”

/>   “Sorry. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “It’s okay. Just don’t tell anybody where I’ve been or that the detective was with me.”

  “How about Tommy Lee? Can I tell him?”

  “No. I’ll tell him.” The phone went quiet and for a second I thought I’d lost the signal. “Uncle Wayne?”

  “Well, he’s sorta standing here.”

  If Wayne had been a spy, he’d never have lived long enough to come in from the cold.

  I rolled my eyes at Melissa. “Put him on.” I could imagine my uncle passing the phone like it was a hot potato.

  “So what are you going to tell me?” Tommy Lee didn’t sound amused. “How big’s this sling you’re about to put my ass in?”

  “Big, even for your ass.”

  “Is Melissa Bigham with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “She gonna be okay?”

  I winked at Melissa. “If she gets her exclusive.”

  “I’m afraid you and I are going to owe her big time.” He paused. “Okay, I’m sitting down. What is it?”

  I didn’t trust myself to concentrate on what I was saying and keep the jeep in my narrow lane. I pulled off the curvy road into the muddy lot of a seasonal roadside fruit stand. Its shuttered front would be dormant until South Carolina peaches were hauled up the mountain. I could park and talk to Tommy Lee for three months.

  “Y’Grok brought back the remains of Jimmy Raven. That’s what he meant by Raven’s come home.”

  “What?”

  “Dog tag. Bones. Kevin’s shook up. I take it they were close.”

  “I never knew Raven, but Kevin told me about him. Weathers named the operation after him.”

  “I know. We think Y’Grok might have been bringing the remains to Kevin because Y’Grok knew he was a detective. Otherwise, there were far easier ways to get Raven home.”

  Tommy Lee gave a soft whistle. He understood the implications immediately. “So the bones could be the motive for Y’Suom’s murder.”