by Ace Beckett
“So if it was never signed does the old will become law?”
“Yes, that is the one signed and witnessed and filed at the clerk’s office.”
“What does that will state?”
“That Chet Franklin will receive a majority of the inheritance and that he will become the president of the Franklin Cattle Company and the CEO of the other Franklin enterprises. It provides Tom with sixty thousand a year from a trust fund but puts strict limitations on it. He gets five thousand a month, no more and he cannot draw any more from the trust. He has some stock in several of the businesses his father owned, a minimal amount. But nothing more was given to Tom – no money, no additional stocks, no land and no position with the company. He can stay in his current job, if his brother wants him there. But Chet, as CEO, could fire him at any time.”
“Sixty thousand might be enough for some people but I hear Tom has three ex-wives. Wonder if he pays any alimony?”
“Not to his third wife. I don’t know about the other two. Fran Anderson comes from a rich family. She doesn’t need the money and didn’t want any. All she wanted was a divorce from Tom, which she got.
I paused for a moment. “Since Chet was killed, who will his holdings go to? Was he married?”
“He was divorced about fifteen months ago. Tom is his nearest blood relative so Chet’s fortune will be passed him.”
“Well, his father’s passing came at a most convenient time for Tom.”
“I…. don’t know what you’re implying.”
“Nothing at all. Just making an observation.”
“Some observations should be kept to yourself.”
“I gather Tom didn’t have many friends.”
“No, he didn’t. He wore them out. Jennifer Rafferty was the closest woman to him. When he was married to his first wife Tom fell hard for Jennifer. The two had an affair and a son, Jake, was born. Tom didn’t dare claim the boy because his father would have been infuriated. Tom had done enough to anger him without having a son with a woman not his wife. Clyde would not have accepted the boy and that might have been the last straw with Tom. That is what destroyed the affair. If Tom ever loved anyone it was Jennifer. But Jennifer was deeply hurt that Tom would never accept his son and any affection she had with him died and turned to bitterness and hatred. I think Tom chose money over Jennifer and his son. He may have regretted that because… he was always something of a hard man, but after that he seemed to get even harder. I don’t know if he ever recovered, emotionally at least, from it. I know once Tom tried to broach the subject of his illegitimate son with his father and Clyde shut it down immediately. He said if the child took one step in the house, Tom would step out of it and never step back in. Ironically Jennifer is now with Ender Pelham. Pelham was divorced a couple of years ago and it’s said he and Jennifer are planning marriage.
“What happened to the child?”
“Jake Rafferty is a fine young man. I think he just turned twenty-one. Tom married right out of high school. At that time being faithful never entered into his mine. He took up with Jennifer about six months after he made his vows.
“Did Tom ever speak to his son or help him in any way.”
“No. Jake did work at the Cattle Company for a while but I don’t know if Tom got him the job or even acknowledged his existence.”
“How long was he with Jennifer?”
“Oh, I’m not sure. I guess two years, maybe more. The affair caused a divorce although I figure his first wife was close to getting fed up with Tom even before learning about the affair. But the divorce came after Jake was born and after Tom made clear he could not have anything to do with his child.”
I sighed. “A small town with scandals and secrets,” I said.
“And good people too. A small town that’s just like medium-sized towns and big cities.”
“I guess so. Thank you for talking with me.”
On the way back to the hotel I phoned the Daniels Cattle Company and waited ten minutes before the layers of bureaucracy finally transferred the call to Tom Daniel’s office. He listened without comment as I repeated details of my investigation. I figured I should just write a detailed version and put in on Facebook. Except I don’t have a Facebook page and I am one of the new-fashioned people who are not enraptured by social media. I fondly recalled a statement by a very good author, now close to eighty, who still typed out his stories and novels on a typewriter. When told he was primitive and needed to join the 21st century, he replied, “I like the 21st century. I like science. I like technology. I like the comforts and medical advances in modern. I’m just not going to waste time dealing with the many jackasses on the Internet!” Let’s face it. He had a point.
After I had finished my spiel Franklin was silent for thirty seconds before answering.
“Mr. Lancaster, I will do anything to find the killer of my brother. I frankly admit at times we had bitter quarrels but he was a better man than I am. Why don’t you come by my house at about eight tonight? I am now president of the Franklin Cattle Company and every other business the family owns. So I’m working nights. In the past I didn’t even work many days. I’ll give you my address and I will be expecting you.”
I drove to my hotel to catch a quick shower and a quick dinner. When I walked in the room the phone rang, I walked over and picked it up. A grizzled loud voice answer.
“Get out of Winter Springs. We don’t want private cops here.”
“I think you have the wrong number.”
“I don’t got no wrong number. The judgement of the Lord has come and the heathens are slain. Lancaster, twenty years ago my father was run down like a dog. He deserted the family and did a lot of bad things but he didn’t deserve to die. I have taken the sword of Elijah to smite the sinners. But I wish you no harm. I don’t want to kill innocents. Your hands are free of blood. But if you continue to interfere you will die too. You cannot get between the sinners and the vengeance of the Lord. If so, you will perish. Leave town and let judgement fall.”
The line went dead. I stared at the receiver.
“You better brush up on your Old Testament. Elijah never carried a sword,” I said.
When I opened the door Wyland was about to knock. He asked if I wanted to go to dinner.
“I’ve got good news,” he said.
“Then I’ll pay. A dinner is worth a little good news.”
After the waitress poured us coffee Wyland picked up his cup and gave a big smile. “This is good news, not great news, not case breaking news but possibly a step forward.”
“Good. I’ve been thinking we’ve been walking backwards not forwards.”
“I’ve kept bugging the police up in Green Groves, Georgia. When I learned the rental car being found I told them they should do a fingerprint check. The renter had it for a couple of weeks. They had to be some. About a few hours before the company sent it to the repair shop to have four thousand dollars worth of repairs the sheriff’s department up there did put a hold it. It was a couple of days before they did the print check due to some excess work; the lab took longer than usual to check the prints. And then the department took a while to get back to me. But they did get a partial. The prints belonged to a man named Willie Damont. His last know residence was Inverness County. Florida.”
“That’s not too far from Bay Tree,” I said.
“But he’s in law enforcement files because he was arrested in Georgia, not Florida. DUI. He was only a tenth over the legal limit but that’s still a felony. It was his first offence so he got probation plus the judge was lenient because he was just a shade over the limit. He did six months probation without any trouble and hit the road.” He shrugged. “It’s not much but it’s something. We can tie the guy to the rental car but even if we find him the evidence is sketchy that he killed Fletcher.”
“True but at least we have a name.” I smiled “We are making progress. And maybe I can make a little more progress later tonight.”
At two minutes after ei
ght I rang the doorbell on Tom Franklin’s house. Even if his father had chipped away some of his trust funds, the house was probably worth about a half million in the current market. Two-story, tall white columns guarding the front door. Grass so green it could have been painted. A large bubbling fountain with stone dolphins in the front yard with the closest house about a football field away.
I rang the doorbell again. When walking up to the front door I had seen a light in the window. Florida crickets played a symphony on the lawn but a few were badly off-key. The crickets chirped but there was a stillness every place else. No wind blew through the Oak and Pine trees in the wealthy subdivision. I saw no one moving. No rabbits or squirrels running rapidly over the ground. I rang the doorbell once again. Then put my hand on the doorknob. It turned. I pushed the door open.
“Mr. Franklin?”
I eased my hand underneath my jacket and pulled out my Glock as I stepped onto a thick rug.
“Mr. Franklin,” I shouted.
I walked toward a hall then turned left toward the light. I walked a dozen steps before realizing the light came from a study. Franklin said he’d be working late tonight. I stepped carefully into the room.
Franklin was at his desk. But he wasn’t working. He leaned back in a green chair that towered three inches over his head. He had a strange almost shocked expression on the narrow, elongated face. No doubt he had been surprised when the three bullets came his way and plunged into his chest. Three splashes of blood stained the dark green shirt he wore. For a moment I just stood in the room, gun pointed at a dead man behind a massive desk.
“I could have sworn it was you. You knew all the passengers in the van. You know what happened. Without your brother you would have inherited $18 million, give or take a million or two. I’m guessing you had the ruthlessness to kill four people as a cover for the single murder of your brother. You only wanted to kill one person but the murders of three others were designed to throw police off the track.” I holstered my gun. “I’ll still bet the farm you planned it. Or financed it. But you made one mistake. I have to check one thing and, if I’m right, then Bill and I have to run a bluff.”
Caveman called the next morning when I was talking Wyland. When I saw the number I gave the thumbs up to my colleague. I listened carefully, fished a yellow legal table out of the desk drawer and scribbled on it with a Papermate pen. Caveman has a florid way of talking but finally I got him to stick to facts. I started smiling as I listened to him and kept smiling when I clicked off.
“The trail is winding to an end,” I said.
“Really, you could have fooled me.”
“We do have to make one more phone call since we don’t have the legal right to issue search warrants. Which is a pity. After that, we can prove who killed the four victims and why.”
“Hank, you’re speeding up and roaring about the track leaving me in the dust. Could you explain that to me?”
“With help from my friend Caveman, I sure can.”
He caught on very quickly. I was only about halfway through when his face lit up. He knew immediately what we need.
“I can make the call,” he said. “I took a little drama in high school. I can do a nice voice inflection. How would you like me to sound? Menacing? Shady? Don’t want honest, so you?”
“No, I don’t want honest. But I don’t want menacing. Let’s say you should have a breezy confident but not threatening voice. Tell them you want to get along with them.”
“I’ll try but I doubt they will believe we’ll one big happy family.”
“Give it your best shot.”
I hooked up my speakerphone. Good reception. I heard the gasp when Wyman confidently asked for a half million dollars.
“Is this some kind of a joke?”
“It’s not or you would have hung up. You are so close to the payoff and the payoff is a rather large sum of money, which will keep producing large amounts of money for years to come. You don’t want to lose everything by being stingy. You don’t want us to go to the police and tell them the motive for these murders had nothing to do with a black man killed on a road long ago. Or that mysterious orange mango project details. The money went out but orange mango project never appeared. That’s what Clyde Franklin was so upset about. The missing money. He was about to disown Tom. Well, the missing money was used but it wasn’t used for orange mangos, was it? I think that’s all I need to say. You’re going to get rich. We would like to get rich too. Half a million dollars by tomorrow.”
“We can’t get that much money quickly. We can give you a down payment. A hundred thousand and the rest later.”
“Acceptable. We can start building trust with one another,” Wyland said. “Where do we meet?”
“At noon. The old Forham place. It skirts the Franklin ranch. No one will be near. It’s deserted. We’ll give you the directions.”
“We’ll be there with bells on,” Wyland said.
At noon the next day we drove toward the Forham place. I had my Glock under my jacket and a smaller Beretta in an ankle holder. Wyland also had two guns but I didn’t see why he stuck the second one. The clouds had reined in the sun’s gold rays. Dark clouds roiled the sky. Both of us could sense the moisture in the air. Rain splattered on the car’s hood and windshield. The large drops made a splat when they hit. When I turned onto the Forham place road the ground was covered with water. After driving fifty yards I turned left and saw an abandoned house with rotting wood and large holes in the screens. No glass in three of the panes. We got out but saw nobody. We walked about three feet from the car. Out of the barn came four men and one woman. They walked slowly. One man, the youngest with black curly hair had a wide-toothy grin, didn’t wear his gun inside his jacket. A holster was slipped around his waist. The large pistol rested on his hip.
The man in the middle of the group was Ender Pedlam. Since he was with Jennifer Rafferty nowadays the tall, slender redhead had to be Jennifer. The curly-haired man inherited his black hair from his father, Tom Franklin. The other two men were nondescript. One had a scar on the side of his cheek. The chubbier man with a bushy beard wore a cowboy hat the rain pelted on. A holster was hooked around his waist too. His fingers tapped on the gun. I pointed to the bearded man.
“I’m wondering if his name is Willie.”
He spat back the reply.
“It is.”
Wyland reached his hand out and pointed at the five, but turned momentarily to glance at me.
“You know what, Hank? There’s something unusual here,” he said.
“There is?”
“Yes. We made a bargain for some money they were going to give us, but to carry that you need a bag, or box, or duffel bag. Health Club bag maybe. But I don’t see anything like that with them. Looks like they’re bare-handed.”
“Gosh, it does appear that way. I wonder if they forgot something?” I said. “I can get forgetful at times. Maybe so can they. I mean they had a lot to do, rushing around killing people, so perhaps a small thing like a bag might have slipped their mind.”
“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are,” Pelham said.
“Actually Hank really is as funny as he thinks he is. Goes off on those tangents though. Has to drive his girlfriend bonkers.”
“They may be forgetful but in terms of planning you have to give them high marks. I’m thinking at least a nine on a scale of one to 10,” I said
“Seems around right.”
I looked at the five people facing us. “So who came up with it? I’m guessing you, Pelham. It’s been said you’re shrewd man. You were Tom’s best friend so it was natural he’d tell him about the van incident. You nodded and shrugged. But then years later you realized that incident would benefit you immeasurably. You just concoct a revenge scheme. When it is unveiled people think the murders are due to vengeance. Vengeance for an old man who no one cared about. But that’s not that it at all. The motive was greed. You just wanted to kill two people, Chet and Tom Franklin.�
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Pelham nodded. “Fifteen months in prison because of him. He always lorded it over me because his father had more money than mine. Way more. We were supposed to be friends but when the fiscal crunch came and we suffered losses, Clyde Franklin was nowhere to be seen. Dad asked him for a loan and Clyde refused. He even took some of our ranch, at a cut rate price. You have to be family for Clyde to do right by you.”
“And sometimes not even then,” said the young, curly haired man. “Forget that old man on the road. I’m the one who owes revenge, revenge to the Franklins and I paid it. I will take their fortune as well as their lives.”
Jennifer Rafferty stood off to the left. She laughed, a very proud and mocking laugh.
“They kicked us out. And now we’re walking back in that fine house to live there and run The Franklin Cattle Company. Ned has no heirs but Jake is his son. DNA tests prove it. He will inherit.”
“Clyde had to die first. That was the key. You couldn’t act until you knew he was dying,” I said. “Some months ago doctors told Clyde he probably had only months to live. So you put your plan put into motion. Three people killed. Then when Chet was murdered, you give police a murder list. The 20-yard-old story of the van accident becomes known to police so they’re looking for revenge as a motive. They weren’t far wrong but it was a different type of vengeance. In theory you would have police looking for a mysterious stranger who never existed. The first three murders were nothing but a cover for the final two.”
As thunder boomed Jake Rafferty’s bright smile almost matched the lightning flash that split the heavens.
“You’re a smart man, actually a very smart man. Let’s see how smart you really are. How do you expect to get out of here alive?”
I matched his smile with a grin of my own. “I’ll just defeat the dark knights, slay the dragon and restore Camelot to peace and glory.”
