“Mack’s name?”
“Nah. More like ‘wait up’ or ‘hold up.’ Anyway, Mack looked up the staircase and his face turned red as a vine-ripe tomato. He headed for the man and both of them looked mad as smoked-out hornets. I thought there was going to be a fight, but they just got up in each other’s face. Mack said, ‘Who brought you down here?’ and the man said, ‘Who brought the law down here, you stupid son of a bitch?’ Then Mack looked around, like he remembered he was in public. He said, ‘You better get out of here and don’t let me see your face again.’ Poker Man said, ‘I ain’t done nothing, old man. Get the hell out of my way.’ And he pushed Mack and walked toward the exit.”
“What did Mack do next?” Kevin asked.
“He watched him go, and then straightened his suit coat and headed toward the hotel lobby.”
“So, he was clearly surprised, but he definitely knew Tyrell.”
“Tyrell?” Uncle Wayne asked.
“Yes,” Kevin said. “That’s the poker player’s name.”
“He never said it, but he definitely knew him.”
Kevin looked across the broad bed to Mayor Whitlock. “Did you see any of this?”
“No. I ran into Luther at the bar and we started talking.”
“What?” I jumped from the bed. “Luther’s here?”
“Yeah,” Mayor Whitlock said. “And I think it’s good for him to get out of that house. He’s with his daughter from Atlanta. Sandra thought it would do him good.” Whitlock waved his hand. “Don’t worry, Barry. I didn’t say anything about us watching that fellow. I told him I was feeling the same way. Eurleen was my sister and I needed to get away too.”
“What about Darren?” I asked. “Did you see him?”
“No. Darren’s in DC.”
I knew he wasn’t, but I didn’t know if Sandra hadn’t yet told Luther the truth about Mack costing Darren his job, or if Luther knew and was embarrassed to tell his brother-in-law. What I did know was that Luther, Darren, Mack, and Frankie Tyrell were all at the casino.
“I told Luther I’d meet him for breakfast,” Mayor Whitlock said. “Is that all right?”
I looked to Kevin.
“Yeah. That’s fine,” Kevin said. “Wayne, you can join them if you want. Then I suggest you both head back to Gainesboro. Archie, you might want to leave before daylight. Tyrell’s unpredictable and if he happened to see you with me, he might figure you set him up.”
Archie paled. “Set him up for what?”
“Doesn’t matter. If he gets that thought in his head, he’ll expect you to tell him. And he can be very persuasive.”
Archie got to his feet. His hands were shaking. “Then I may as well run on. I can be home by midnight.”
“I think that’s wise,” Kevin said. “You did a good job.”
Archie managed a smile. “Thanks. See you all later.” He was out the door with the final syllable.
“Anything else?” Kevin asked me.
“One thing.” I stared at the mayor. “It should go without saying, but neither of you is to mention what happened tonight. Not Archie’s poker game. Not Mack’s run-in with Tyrell. Understand?”
The mayor’s head bobbed.
“Say it out loud. Kevin’s my witness and if you don’t keep this among us, he can charge you with obstruction of justice.” I added that threat knowing Mayor Whitlock was impressed with anyone from a big city, whether Kevin had jurisdiction or not.
In unison, my uncle and the mayor said, “I promise.”
“One last thing. Uncle Wayne, how much did you win at blackjack?”
He cracked a sly grin. “Just south of five hundred dollars.”
“Then you can buy breakfast for Luther and the mayor tomorrow. That will give you something to talk about.”
“Good idea,” the mayor said.
I realized the buffet line would take a major hit in the morning.
When Kevin and I stepped into the hall, I said, “There are a few things I still need to go over with you before I report to Tommy Lee.”
“OK. Why don’t we hit the casino bar and grab a nightcap.”
“No. I want this private.”
Kevin cocked his head and eyed me curiously. “You think Tyrell could overhear us?”
“Who knows where he is now that you don’t have the rest of us doing your surveillance work for you.”
Kevin colored just at the base of his neck, but enough to show I’d hit a nerve. I walked away and we didn’t speak until we entered his hotel room.
Kevin went straight to the desk and picked up Archie’s glass of Scotch. “No sense wasting it. Now what’s the burr under your saddle?”
“Seeing you break into Frankie Tyrell’s room.”
The Scotch stopped a few millimeters shy of his lips. He glared at me over the rim of the glass. “Were you following me?”
“No. I spilled wine on my pants and returned to the room to change. I came up the stairwell and saw you with your electronic gizmo.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t the kind of conversation to have in a hotel hallway.”
He sighed and set the drink back on the desk. “All right. Sit down. Let’s talk.”
This time he took the love seat and left me the desk chair.
“First. I’m not officially here.”
“You’re not working the case?”
“I’m working the investigation. Boston PD is interested in Tyrell and his connection to unsolved murders for Whitey Bulger. But there was no budget to send me down here. I’m on my own nickel.”
“Do they know it?”
“My lieutenant probably suspects what I’m up to.”
“What are you up to?”
Kevin frowned with impatience. “Exactly what I told you. When we saw Tyrell’s travel plans with no known reason why he’d suddenly come to the Cherokee reservation, I listened to my instincts. Something wasn’t right.”
“Were his phones tapped?”
“The ones we know about. Burners are so easy to get and dispose of. I was suspicious because none of his conversations mentioned anything about his trip.”
“So that poker money—”
“Was my own stake,” Kevin interrupted.
“And that stunt of breaking into his hotel room?”
Kevin leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Look, Barry, I didn’t plant anything in his room. I wanted to see if he might still have a weapon matching what killed the Indian. If he did, I would have worked through channels to push for a legitimate search. But I didn’t want to alert Tyrell if there was nothing to find.”
“Did you find a weapon?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then if you didn’t want to alert him with a search warrant, why the hell parade in front of him in the poker room?”
“To call him out. Get inside his head and let him know he’s got a shadow sticking to him like glue and see if he runs to whoever contracted him.”
“I’ve got to tell you it sounds like you’re on a personal crusade.”
Kevin got up and reached under the bed for the file he’d shown me earlier. He took out a photo and handed me the shot of Tyrell getting into the car in front of the bar.
“O’Malley’s,” he said. “Not too far from where I live. Not too far from where my brother and his family lived. Eight years before that photo was taken, one of Whitey Bulger’s rivals was gunned down on that corner by an unknown assailant. It was early evening, the time when it’s hard to see because the sun is down but the streetlights are still off. And it was raining. The shooter fired four shots. Three hit the target and one missed. It struck a passing car. My brother’s car. And it killed his ten-year-old daughter, my niece, riding in the backseat. She’d be nineteen today. A
smart girl, probably in college.” He bent down in front of me and locked his eyes on mine. “A personal crusade? You’re damned right it’s personal. And now I want Frankie Tyrell to know I’m coming for him.”
Chapter Eighteen
Kevin just kept staring at me. I had no doubt that he’d pursue Tyrell to the ends of the Earth. I’d seen that look before when he and Tommy Lee sought the killer of a refugee from Vietnam, the son of the Montagnard man who had saved their platoon.
When I didn’t say anything, he asked, “Are you going to tell Tommy Lee?”
I’d already made up my mind. What purpose would it serve other than to put Tommy Lee in a difficult position with his friend? I wouldn’t have condoned planting evidence, but it didn’t sound like the illegal search was leading anywhere.
“You swear to me you didn’t find a weapon or plant any evidence?”
“On my mother and my grandmother’s graves, I swear I didn’t find a weapon or plant evidence in Tyrell’s room.” He backed away. “Are we good?”
I stood. “We’re more than good. We’re finished.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t think Tyrell’s going to stick around after seeing you, do you?”
“He’s paid his entry fee for the tournament. Believe me, he won’t want to lose his money. But if I’ve overplayed my hand and he bolts, I’ll be right behind him. What are you going to do?”
“See if Susan can ride back with my uncle tomorrow. Then follow up on Mack Collins and Luther. I want to learn why they’re both here.”
Kevin nodded. “Sounds like the right angle. I’ll keep you posted on Tyrell.”
I headed for the door.
“Barry.”
I stopped and turned around.
“I know what I’m doing,” Kevin said.
“Good for you. But I find taking shortcuts usually leads to a screw-up.”
“And sometimes a shortcut is the only way to get ahead of your quarry. I’m tired of chasing the bastard. He’s coming to me.”
If Kevin meant to reassure me, he failed.
***
The next morning Susan and I found Uncle Wayne and Mayor Whitlock with Luther at the breakfast buffet. The room looked like a senior center with the early risers crowding the serving line as if the hotel would run out of food at any moment.
Luther attacked a stack of pancakes. He looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Barry. Susan. Your uncle said you were here. Grab some food and join us.”
“I can’t stay,” I said, “but, Susan, why don’t you have something before heading out?” I turned to Uncle Wayne. “You’re leaving after breakfast, right?”
“I was hoping they’d stay with me,” Luther said. “Sandra’s not a gambler so she’ll be doing other stuff.”
I stared at my uncle, shooting lasers at him. At first, he seemed to waver from our plan.
“Uncle Wayne,” I prompted.
“Sorry, Luther. I need to get back to the funeral home, what with Barry out of town.” My uncle turned to Mayor Whitlock. “And I’m sure Sammy’s too important to be out of the office two days in a row.”
I relaxed. There was no way Mayor Whitlock would contradict his own importance.
“How long are you and Sandra going to be here?” I asked.
“We’re booked through tonight.” Luther’s appetite suddenly disappeared. He set down his fork and pushed away his plate. “She was very sweet to bring me here, but I think she’s setting me up for the talk.”
“What talk?” I asked.
“The one where she says I shouldn’t be living by myself. I’m seventy. Eurleen was younger.”
“Seventy’s not old,” Uncle Wayne said. “It’s the prime of life.”
If my uncle were a hundred, he’d say it was the prime of life.
“I know,” Luther said. “But Sandra looks at me and sees an old man living alone. She’s been making noises that I should come live with her. She’s divorced, big house, no kids.”
“Then she should move back to Gainesboro,” Mayor Whitlock said. “What’s Atlanta got that we don’t?”
How about everything, I thought. But I bit my tongue.
“Nah,” Luther said. “Her business is based there.”
“What about your son?” I asked. “Would he come back?”
“From DC? No way. And boys are different. They don’t worry about their dads like daughters do.”
So, Luther still didn’t know Darren had lost his job. Maybe that was going to be part of Sandra’s little talk. Maybe that’s why Darren was in Cherokee. To help his sister convince their father to move.
“Are Darren and Sandra close?” I asked.
“No. Not as close as I wished. Darren was always the little brother and Sandra the older bossy sister.”
Mayor Whitlock nodded. I wondered if he was agreeing with the relationship of his niece and nephew or thinking about his own relationship with his sister Eurleen.
“Darren will probably push for the opposite of whatever Sandra wants,” Luther said. “That’s the way it’s always been. But I’m going to do things my way. Probably sell the house and get a condo in town. That should keep Sandra off my back for a while.”
“That’s a good plan, Luther,” Uncle Wayne said. “Get a fresh start.”
Susan returned to the table with a bowl of cereal and fresh fruit.
I got up and gave her my chair. “I’d better get started myself.”
“Barry,” Luther said hesitantly.
“Yes?”
“Any progress? You know, on that killing?”
“Still gathering information.”
“To think someone did that on my Eurleen’s grave.”
“Trust me. Tommy Lee and I will get to the truth.”
Luther’s eyes teared up. Everyone else stared at their food. I left them in silence.
Meeting Detective Sergeant Romero at eight was the first item on my agenda. We were going to make a surprise visit on Eddie Wolfe and ask why he’d gone to Jimmy Panther’s lodgings immediately after speaking to us the previous day. Did he come to the same conclusion that Danny Swift might be hiding there? If so, why didn’t he tell Romero and let the police handle it?
I had fifteen minutes to run up to the room, grab my notepad and revolver, and be outside before Romero arrived. I stepped out of the breakfast buffet and spotted Sandra Cransford hurrying toward me.
“Hi, Barry, I was hoping to catch you. Can we talk a moment?”
Her mourning clothes had been replaced by a pair of jeans and a gray turtleneck sweater.
I moved to the closest wall away from the doorway. “I’m afraid I’ve only got a moment. I’m meeting someone.”
“I wanted to explain why we’re here. I called my father after you spoke with me yesterday morning. He was awfully shaken up. Then after Sheriff Wadkins talked to him and Dad admitted he’d lied about Sunday night, I was worried he’d sit in the house and, well, I don’t know what. He sounded so down.”
“I understand. I just left him. He seems in better spirits this morning.”
Sandra smiled. “Good. This is a place he’s always enjoyed and he came here without Mom. Her absence wouldn’t be conspicuous.”
I edged forward, anxious to leave. “You were good to come up from Atlanta and bring him.”
“It was his spontaneous suggestion, so I wanted to explain why I didn’t mention it yesterday. I thought it might seem strange, the Cherokee man killed on Mother’s grave and then we come to the reservation.”
It did seem strange and had I not been so focused on the previous night’s poker game and Kevin’s invasion of Tyrell’s room, I probably would have questioned Luther’s motive for being here. “I just hope he has a good time. I understand you’re staying another night.”
She laughed. “
That’s the plan. If he doesn’t lose all his money today.”
“Are you going to see your brother while he’s here?”
Sandra stared at me liked the question had been in some foreign language. “Darren?”
“Yes. I spoke to him yesterday. He said he’s up here on business.”
Sandra’s face hardened. “Well, that’s just great. Mack Collins is here too. If Darren sees him, he’s just hotheaded enough to cause a scene.”
“You saw Mack?”
“I ran into him last night. He has a meeting with the Cherokee gaming commissioner this morning. Mack said the man’s uptight over the Catawba casino plans and needs some handholding.” She eyed me suspiciously. “Did Darren say why he was here?”
I decided not to share Darren’s plan to rally anticasino support from Panther’s followers. Sandra would tell Mack, which would only add fuel to the fire burning between the two men.
“No. He just said business. I didn’t press him since you’d told me about his job situation.”
“If he’s got any sense, he’ll keep his nose out of tribal politics. Dealing with the state legislature is one thing, but the Cherokee Council is a whole different ball game.”
You mean ball-play, I thought, and realized I was going to be late to meet Romero. “Sorry, I’ve really got to go.”
Sandra stepped back. “Working your investigation?”
“Yes.”
“Then if it helps clear my father of suspicion, I don’t want to delay you.” Her eyes moistened. “I know he had nothing to do with that man’s death. And if Darren’s mixed up in it somehow, that would just kill Dad.”
“Why would you think Darren’s involved?”
She raised her hands. “I’m not saying he knowingly played a part. It’s just that Darren’s easily manipulated and could be in something over his head.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.”
“For God’s sake, don’t tell him I said anything.”
“I won’t.”
She smiled. The tears were gone. “If you’re still here tonight, perhaps you, Dad, and I can have dinner. My treat.”
“Maybe. But don’t count on it. I’ll leave a note at the front desk if it looks like I can make it.”
Risky Undertaking Page 17
