Out Jumps Jack Death: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 8)

by M. Glenn Graves

I was merely a person of interest as they were covering their bases. I learned nothing about the death of Rod Summers; but then, I didn’t expect them to share with me. After all, I shared nothing with them. My trust for the agencies is thin at best.

  Rosey picked me up in his Jag and drove us back to Sterling. He was still cleaning up the mess in his apartment, but he had made great strides in restoring the place to its former glory. I embellish a little. We could walk around the apartment without looking for a path. Sam was asleep on the bed that I normally use whenever I stay over. Rosey would never have allowed Sam on his bed.

  “They revealed nothing to you,” he said as we continued our straightening and throwing things away.

  “As you might imagine. Just asked me a lot of questions about why Summers met with me.”

  “And you told them what?”

  “That you had nothing to do with it.”

  “Me? You talked about me?” he said.

  “Your name came up. Remember, Rod Summers was leading the chase to find you before someone called off the dogs.”

  Sam raised his head and looked in my direction through the doorway.

  “Sorry, boy. Just an expression.”

  I don’t think he was pleased with the metaphor. Just a hunch. His head fell back onto my pillow.

  “Do they want to talk with me?”

  “Didn’t say. In the meantime, Rogers told me that the Metropolitan Police already have a suspect in custody.”

  “Viable?” he said.

  “Unlikely, but they’ll indict him. Homeless man. Had the murder weapon in his possession.”

  “Motive.”

  “Not so much. With the homeless crowd, I don’t think they look too hard for motives. Just shot him in the back of the head twice with a .22 pistol.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s definitely the M.O. of the homeless. They all carry small arms and execute their victims that way. Shrewd detective work.”

  “I thought so.”

  “So why’d the F.B.I. call you in if the Metro Police already had someone in custody?”

  “I wondered that myself. Maybe covering their bases. Who knows? Could it be that the F.B.I. does not think that the homeless man actually did it?” I said.

  “I just thought of something,” Rosey said as he stopped cleaning. “Did the F.B.I. ask you about the email you sent Summers?”

  “No. Not a word.”

  “You think they found it?”

  “No. They would’ve asked if they had discovered that email. That email could easily be traced back to me. I had no reason to have Rogers hide that fact. That could mean that this conspiracy runs deep and wide.”

  “So whoever killed Summers cleaned up his email accounts.”

  “Rogers said as much. And, she said that whoever did clean it, knew a thing or two about erasing hard drives, or, as she put it, wiping them.”

  “I thought you knew a thing or two about computer stuff.”

  “A thing or two, but that type of wiping clean … way above my pay grade. Sophisticated stuff, according to Rogers. I can replace stuff and repair stuff, but I don’t go into this black hat stuff of hacking and hiding behind layers of disinformation and wild goose chases.”

  “I take it you have consulted with her on the matter.”

  “You betcha. Sometimes she’s invaluable.”

  “Too bad she doesn’t have a crystal ball to peer into so we could ask her who the mastermind behind this thing is.”

  “Not good old Thad?”

  “I have some doubts. He’s devious and driven, but his motives seem to be avarice. He wants to get filthy rich and run away to Argentina.”

  “How do you know it’s Argentina?”

  “Posters on the wall in his office and he likes to go to an Argentine restaurant in D.C.”

  “As in Mexican cuisine?” I said.

  “No, as in Argentine cuisine. Argentina is more heavily influenced by Spain.”

  “He figures to hide out in Argentina?” I said.

  “I’m guessing of course, but that would be where I would go looking for him.”

  “But he’s not filthy rich. I stole his money.”

  “There’s that. Perhaps, if he is not the mastermind, you also stole someone else’s money. That could mean that our mystery person or person are not happy with you.”

  “If they know I’m the culprit.”

  “Sooner or later, I suspect the bad guys are bound to figure that out, if they haven’t already. Since they tossed my place, I think they’re on to us.”

  I smiled.

  “You have a plan,” Rosey said.

  “Sort of.”

  “Good. I like plans. On the other hand, I do not automatically like your plans. So tell me your plan and then I shall decide.”

  I could tell that he was feeling much better.

  “We wait for the next shoe to fall.”

  “I don’t like your plan.”

  “I didn’t think you would.”

  “You’ve had this plan before,” he said.

  “All along.”

  “Your detective skills are a bit skewed.”

  “But they work.”

  “If you prefer a target painted on your backside,” he said.

  “It draws them out.”

  “And people get killed.”

  56

  Starnes called and was desperate.

  “I can’t locate Laurel.”

  Her voice was different. Of all the people I know, she and Rosey never sounded desperate. Calm, collected, thinking, rational, minimal people. Her voice belied the usual calmness which had always been there.

  “How long she been gone?”

  “Last spoke with her two days ago. Her mother called late yesterday to say that she was out hiking some trails and never came home. Not like her.”

  “You’re suspicious.”

  “Always.”

  “Talked to the sheriff?”

  “He didn’t believe me. Laurel has a reputation for being a loner and highly independent. He said she’d turn up. He’s being a jerk.”

  “So you think something’s amuck,” I said.

  “Too mucky for me to leave alone.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “I need you and Rosey here to help me search.”

  “You bet. Not doing much good around D.C. People seem to be dying after they come into contact with me.”

  “You have the curse. No leads?”

  “No leads that go anywhere. Except for the deaths. Those could be the leads.”

  “Probably. Who’s the most recent?”

  “F.B.I. Agent Summers.”

  “Wow,” she said flatly without feeling.

  “He talked with me and I sent him a copy of the flash drive containing the hologram currency plates.”

  “Too much information for the agent,” she said.

  “And then he began to fish around. I think his nosiness got him killed.”

  “Where’d he poke his nose?”

  “Don’t know. I’m not on that trail. Officialdom is investigating said murder. They think they have the murderer,” I said.

  “They think.”

  “Homeless man who probably didn’t do it. The kill was more professional.”

  Starnes grunted without commenting on my deduction. I waited to see what she would say next.

  “I need you,” Starnes said.

  Her thoughts were centered on Laurel. Hard to be otherwise under the circumstances. It was easy to convince Rosey, so we packed Sam and our overnight bags into the Silverado and headed for the mountains once more. Rosey said he’d rather not drive this time around. I think he was still feeling bumfuzzled. He also knew that I loved to drive Diamond’s truck.

  It was late when we arrived. Starnes was sitting on the porch in the dark. Dog was sitting on her hindquarters on the steps waiting on us. I could see in the dim light coming through the front window of Starnes’ place that Dog was wagging her tail, but only after she spotted
Sam approaching. She has her favorites.

  “Tired of searching?” I said.

  “No. Tired of not finding. Searched all afternoon after I talked with you.”

  “No clues on the trails?” Rosey said as he sat down next to Starnes in the other rocker. I was sitting on the steps after the dogs had vacated. They wandered off, sniffing and running into each other like old friends.

  “Nothing yet.”

  “Too many miles to search,” he said.

  “Yeah. The mountains seem to go on forever. Too many side-trails. Too much cover. Too many places to hide or be hidden. Or not be there at all.”

  “You think someone has her?” I said to Starnes.

  “Or she’s dead.”

  “Your gut think she’s dead?”

  “My gut is sick. I can’t respond to that question. I’m a scientist of sorts, as you know. I deal with facts.”

  “You know her favorites spots,” I said.

  “Checked ‘em all,” she said.

  “And found absolutely nothing?” Rosey said.

  “Nary a trace. You guys hungry?”

  “Coffee would be good. We planning to stay up all night and commiserate?”

  “No. Coffee’s on the stove,” she said.

  I retrieved two cups, one for me and one for Rosey. Starnes and Rosey rocked in silence while I sipped my coffee. Time seemed to be hanging on without moving at its usual, methodical clip in such cases. The dogs came back from wherever and sat down in front of me. Eventually they rolled over and went to sleep.

  Time passed reluctantly.

  I retrieved a second and third cup of coffee. Rosey stopped at one. Starnes didn’t drink anything.

  “We’ll find her,” I said after another while had passed.

  “You don’t know that,” Starnes said.

  She wasn’t angry, just firm.

  “I believe in the people I work with.”

  “Me, too, but we all have limits,” Starnes said.

  “Who would want to harm Laurel?” Rosey said.

  “Anyone who wants to get at us,” Starnes said.

  She was right. Her answer didn’t limit the possibilities. It did limit the most recent possibilities.

  “Who even knows she helped me besides our own group?” Rosey asked.

  “Have you heard from Diamond?” I said to Starnes.

  “No.”

  “I’ll contact her,” I said.

  I went into the house and called Rogers. I put out the equivalent of an APB for my friend the professional killer. Not everyone has a bat signal. I go through a technological network. An hour later I received a call.

  It wasn’t from Diamond.

  57

  “Good of you to make contact,” the voice said.

  “May I ask with whom I am speaking?”

  “Correct grammar and everything. Yes, you may,” the voice said.

  It was an easy voice that sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Since I had expected Diamond to call me, I was off my game a little in voice identification.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’ll get to that in a minute. You have more pressing concerns.”

  “I do?” I said.

  “Laurel Shelton is missing and you want to find her,” the voice said with great calm. The pattern was familiar, yet I could not for the life of me identify it.

  “And you know this because …?”

  “Because I have the girl with me. So far she is safe,” the voice said.

  I walked back to the front porch and turned on the outside light as I opened the screen door. Starnes and Rosey both stopped rocking and turned to scowl at me as if I had done the unpardonable thing by lighting up the front porch.

  I held up my hand to stop them from speaking as I pushed the speaker button so that all of us could hear the voice on the other end.

  “Laurel is safe,” I repeated as if questioning.

  “Yes,” the voice said.

  Starnes edged forward in her rocker. Rosey stood quickly and moved closer to the phone. I placed the phone on the small table beside Starnes.

  “You said, so far she is safe,” I repeated for Rosey’s and Starnes’ sake.

  “I did.”

  “And that means you want something from me?”

  “I want something from all of you,” the voice said.

  I was still scrolling through the files of my mind for some key to identify the voice. It was male, I could easily tell that, and there was something about it that made me think I knew who it was. At the very least, I had heard it before, or so it seemed. And yet, it was somehow disguised without technology altering its pitch and tone and resonance. It was disguised by sounding formal. It was lacking the colloquial nature which most people utilize in conversations But the pattern, the rhythm … I knew it from somewhere.

  I looked at Starnes and Rosey, held up both hands waist high, then shrugged as if to say, Who is this?

  “What do you want?” I said.

  “I want my money,” the voice said.

  “And what money is that?” I asked.

  “Do not be coy with me, Clancy Evans,” the voice said.

  “In exchange for Laurel?” I said.

  “For starters.”

  “That means you want something else.”

  I watched Starnes scribble something on a piece of paper and then hold it up for me to read – Wilkerson was the name she wrote. I shook my head no. That voice did not belong to Thaddeus Wilkerson.

  “I want you to suffer a bit since you have caused me so much,” the voice paused, likely for affect, and then continued, “… commotion. You have upset my plans and that has displeased me.”

  “I’ll get your money,” I said. “As long as no harm comes to Laurel. How much money do you want?”

  “I will repeat – and this is the last time I will say it to you, Evans … do not be coy with me. You know exactly how much money I want. I want it all, all that you took from me.”

  I made no response. If this was not Wilkerson, then we had to be talking to the head man of this whole operation.

  There was a few moments of silence as we three waited from the voice to continue. I was positive that the voice did not belong to Thaddeus Wilkerson. No way could that man disguise his voice to that extent. I had no real clue to the identity, just a gut feeling of familiarity with the sound coming through the speaker phone.

  “Well, to be absolutely clear about this, you have one more pressing need.”

  “Okay, what’s my more pressing need?”

  “On a dirt road in McAdams County, there is a truck that has pulled off the road into some weeds. The driver has been injured. You should attend to that.”

  “Can you be a bit more specific?”

  “I could, but that would not satisfy me as much.”

  “It’s a big county,” I said.

  “Quite large,” the calm voice agreed. “You should call out some extra forces to aid in your search.”

  “Was the truck wrecked?”

  “No.”

  “So how was the person in the truck injured?”

  “There was a shooting.”

  “You shot him,” I said, fishing.

  “Him? I did not say him. Good try, Miss Evans. But, alas, you are not quite clever enough to outwit me. The victim was shot three times.”

  “And you did the deed,” I said.

  “I did. But enough with this idle chit-chat. The victim is bleeding and really needs you to find the location quickly.”

  “And I know this person?” I said.

  “Without a doubt,” the voice said.

  “Are you going to tell me who this person is?”

  “Only if you promise to hurry,” the voice said calmly.

  “Okay, I promise.”

  “Doesn’t sound sincere to me.”

  “Well, if I knew who it was that was injured in the truck, it might help.”

  “You sent out a call for your friend Diamond.
I answered the call. I phoned you using her mobile device, by the way. So who do you think is bleeding to death inside that truck?”

  “Where is the damn truck?” I yelled into the phone. My patience had escaped me.

  “Ah, I think I have your attention at last. Now, you will hurry, won’t you?”

  The call ended. The voice on the other end was gone. My desperation was mounting. No doubt I was feeling what my friend Starnes had been feeling for the last two days.

  “Where on earth do we begin?” I said to her.

  “I’ll call the sheriff and see what I can get from him. Maybe he can send out a couple of deputies to help us. We’ll split up. I’ll take Dog and go towards the northern section of the county. I’ll get the sheriff and the deputies to search the western part around Madison. You and Rosey take Sam and go south in the direction of Asheville. Then move back to the east side.”

  “That’s not many people,” I said.

  “I’ll call some folks who are friends,” she said. “You need to get moving. Just drive and look.”

  “This is a desperation in futility,” I said.

  “At the very least,” Starnes said. “You have any other ideas?”

  “Before we rush out into the night, let’s take a breath and think for a moment.”

  “Think away,” she said, ‘but do it quickly. I need to call the sheriff.”

  “Is it possible that somehow the kidnapping of Laurel is connected with Diamond?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” Rosey said.

  “Is there any reason for us to think that Diamond and Laurel were together?”

  “Why would they be together?” Rosey said.

  “I saw them talking with each other. They seemed to hit it off,” Starnes said.

  “Yeah. I saw them together as well,” I said. “I’ve just never known Diamond to take to anyone much in my limited experience; however, she did spend some time with the girl.”

  “You think they planned something?” Rosey said.

  “Well, more likely, Diamond felt some need to protect her,” I offered.

  “Are you guessing here?” Starnes said.

  “Method to my madness, detective stuff,” I said. “If I am right, then Diamond could have gone to Laurel to make sure that she was safe in all of this. She could have been thinking a few steps ahead of our adversaries.”