by J. C. Fields
“About a hundred paces south of our last check in.”
Orienting himself, he set off in the direction she indicated. Five minutes later, he was staring at the remains of a human male sitting on the ground. Its upper torso leaning against a large oak tree, the lower half semi-covered in fallen leaves. “He’s been here a while, but it’s Bobby.”
Nadia looked at Michael. “How can you be sure, Michael? The face is almost gone.”
He pointed to the corpse. “That’s his favorite coat. He never wore anything else when it got cold.”
“Do we call the sheriff now?”
“Yes, but I want to look around first.”
She watched Wolfe take pictures with his cell phone. There was no emotion, just a professional detachment as he examined the area around the body. He bent down several times and moved leaves, but did not disturb the scene. Finally, he looked at her and motioned with his head it was time to go.
After he called the sheriff, Wolfe leaned against the Jeep’s front quarter panel. Nadia poured coffee for both of them from a Yeti stainless-steel bottle.
He spoke first. “When the Sheriff gets here, don’t mention to him what I’m going to tell you.”
“Do not worry. I dislike talking to policemen.”
He chuckled slightly. “We are supposed to believe Bobby walked into the woods and committed suicide.”
“I did not see a gun.”
“There’s a Ruger SR22 in his right hand covered in leaves. Above his right ear, covered by his hair, is a bullet hole without an exit wound. Probably a .22 hollow point, low velocity round. I couldn’t tell for sure.”
“I am sorry, Michael.”
“Me too.”
“Why did you say we are supposed to believe he killed himself.”
“Poorly staged. Whoever did this didn’t know Bobby very well.”
“How’s that?”
“Bobby was left-handed.”
“How did you find the body, Michael?” Sherriff Bright watched Wolfe over the top of his reading glasses with suspicion in his eyes as he made notes on a clipboard.
Wolfe pointed to the sky. “Saw turkey vultures circling the area early this morning. We took a chance.”
The sheriff, satisfied, nodded. “Looks like a suicide to me. I thought he was doing better.”
“We did, too.”
“I’ll let you know what the autopsy tells us about the cause of death.”
“Thank you, Sheriff.”
“Did he have any next of kin I need to inform?”
“He has a brother in New York, but I don’t think he’ll give a shit.”
“Why?”
“When I first started working with Bobby, I contacted the guy. He couldn’t be bothered to help his brother. Too busy, he said. Bobby warned me the family had kind of disowned him after he got back from overseas.”
“What about parents?”
Wolfe shook his head. “Father is deceased, mother’s in a memory care facility in North Carolina. Bobby told me she doesn’t remember having kids. Advanced Alzheimer’s. That was a year ago—she’s probably deceased as well.”
The sheriff nodded. “I still need to contact the brother.”
“I don’t think he’ll care, Harold. But I’ll get you the number.”
Wolfe and Nadia waited until the coroner’s office removed the body and the ambulance drove away before returning to their home. Michael was silent the entire trip. Both were cold from being out in mid-thirty temperatures all day, so after a warm shower, they sat at the kitchen table over re-heated bowls of soup made the previous evening.
Nadia broke the silence. “What are you thinking, Michael? You have been quiet a long time.”
He shook his head as he took another spoonful of soup. “I can’t for the life of me figure out why anyone would want Bobby dead. It doesn’t make sense.”
“How much do you know about his background?”
Wolfe stopped eating and looked at Nadia. “He was one of my spotters during Desert Storm. Come to think about it, I didn’t know much at all. We were both barely out of our teens and caught up in the chaos of the moment. I knew a little about his family, but not much else. Why?”
She shrugged. “That was a long time ago. Things happen to people. They get mixed up in events they cannot control. The way you described him sounds like he may have been hiding from his past. Maybe it caught up with him.”
Placing his elbows on the table, Wolfe frowned as he cupped his chin. “What are you getting at?”
“Do you know why his brother would not speak to him?”
“No, we never discussed it.”
“Maybe you should ask the brother.”
“What makes you think he would tell me anything?”
“Because I know you, Michael Wolfe. I may be the only person in the world who does.” She gave him a soft smile. “You are not going to let this go.”
He chuckled. “No, I don’t suppose I will. You may be right about his past. I know he stayed in the military for a while after I left, but we never talked about it.”
“What did he do after the military?”
Wolfe shrugged. “He never said. When I asked, he’d get this faraway look and go silent.”
“Does that not sound a little strange?”
“At the time, no. But now…”
“There is something there.”
“Yeah, I agree. Where do we start?”
“You…” She paused and smiled. “We should start with the brother.”
He returned the smile and reached for her hand.
Chapter 12
Albany, NY
T he Kendrick and Benson law firm occupied half of the second floor in a five-story building near downtown Albany. Wolfe noticed the no-frills décor seemed industrial and inexpensive, not the normal furnishings for a successful law firm. After checking in with the receptionist for their two o’clock appointment, he and Nadia waited in the lobby.
Nadia whispered in his ear, “Seems a bit quiet in here.”
He nodded but did not verbally respond.
At 2:13 p.m., a tall, slender man with silver hair appeared from a hallway to their right. He offered his hand to Wolfe. “Kevin Benson, Mr. Lyon. You must be Mrs. Lyon?”
Nadia shook his hand and nodded.
Benson returned his attention to Wolfe. “Is this about my brother?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Follow me.”
Benson led them to a small conference room halfway down the hallway. When everyone settled around the large table, the lawyer asked, “What kind of trouble is Bobby in now?”
“I beg your pardon?” Wolfe barely hid his surprise at the question.
“I’m merely inquiring about what type of crime Bobby has committed this time.”
Wolfe frowned. “Has the sheriff of Howell County, Missouri been in contact with you?”
“I figured it was about Bobby. There’s nothing I can do for him, so I chose not to take the call. I’m only seeing you because you’re here in Albany. What has he been charged with now?”
“Mr. Benson, your brother is dead.”
The attorney blinked rapidly, his expression remaining neutral. He stared at Wolfe. “Dead?”
“Yes.”
“How? I thought…”
Leaning forward on the conference table, Wolfe clasped his hands. “Gunshot wound to the head.” At this point, the ex-sniper did not care about the lawyer’s feelings which seemed uncaring. To Wolfe, who never experienced having a brother, the man’s disrespect was unacceptable.
“You’re talking about my brother Robert, correct?”
Wolfe nodded.
“What exactly do you wish me to do about this development?”
Nadia placed her hand on Wolfe’s arm. She knew he was about to say something less than helpful. “Mr. Benson, Michael and Bobby were friends. They served together in the military. We wanted his next of kin to know.”
“And you felt the need to trav
el all the way from Missouri to tell me.” He paused for a moment. With narrowed eyes, his focus switched from Wolfe to Nadia and back several times. “Where’s the body?”
Frowning, Nadia replied, “A funeral home in West Plains, Missouri.”
The attorney now looked at a spot on the wall above Wolfe’s head. “How much money does he owe you, Mr. Lyon?”
“Mr. Benson, Bobby was debt free.” Wolfe’s face grew crimson.
“Bobby has owed a lot of money to a lot of people over the course of his life. I stopped paying his way out of debt a long time ago.”
“Bobby didn’t have any debts. I helped him clean himself up three years ago and he helped take care of my property. He was doing great. He even had a girlfriend.”
Benson stared at Wolfe. “Are we talking about the same, Robert Benson?”
Wolfe’s nostrils flared and his breathing increased in tempo. Again, Nadia placed her hand on his arm. She felt him relax slightly.
She smiled. “Mr. Benson, Michael and I saw a different side of your brother.”
“One you could have seen if you had cared enough to call him or…” Wolfe’s voice was low, on the verge of a growl.
“Michael, let Mr. Benson grieve. Our news must be a shock for him.”
Benson’s reaction startled both of them. “I am not grieving and nothing about my brother shocks me anymore, Mrs. Lyon. In fact, I’m tired of hearing about him. If he owes you money, too bad. Do not get the idea I will be bailing him out.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Our parents always believed in discipline. It was a very structured home. When our father passed away, the structure disappeared and Mother fell apart. Bobby was still at home at the time and I was in college five states away. After the funeral, my mother had a nervous breakdown and spent years in a facility. When Bobby graduated from high school, he immediately joined the Marines.” He paused and looked at Wolfe. “Is that where you met him, Mr. Lyon?”
Michael nodded.
“I didn’t see him again until the summer of 1995, seven years later. He was different. I was a young attorney by then and just starting my practice at a large firm in Buffalo. We had nothing in common and our visit lasted only a few hours. He left and I haven’t seen him since. However, you are not the first to think I will pay his debts.”
He paused, but when neither Wolfe or Nadia commented, he continued. “His lack of contributing to the care of our mother placed an unfair burden on my life and my finances.”
Nadia could hear Wolfe taking deep breaths. She glanced at him and saw his nostrils flare as he spoke through clenched teeth. “Sorry for your burden, counselor. But that’s not the Bobby Benson I knew.”
“Then we must be talking about two different individuals.” He paused and straightened, seeming to look down at Wolfe and Nadia. “Bobby didn’t even attend her funeral.”
Wolfe’s demeanor changed suddenly. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “When did she pass away?”
“February 2001.”
Wolfe blinked several times. “Huh.”
“Why are you surprised, Mr. Lyon?”
“Bobby told me his mother was still alive and suffering from Alzheimer’s.”
Benson shook his head. “No, she never had Alzheimer’s.”
Nadia frowned. “Mr. Benson, do you have a picture of Bobby?”
“Not here.”
Wolfe opened a picture on his cell phone of himself and Bobby standing in front of the newly renovated cabin. He showed it to Benson. “Is that Bobby?”
The attorney frowned and took the phone for a better view. He handed it back to Wolfe. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I believe I would know what my own brother looks like, Mr. Lyon.”
“What was your brother’s dominant hand?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Humor me.”
“He was right-handed.”
“Michael, what is going on?”
Wolfe stared out of the windshield of their rental car on the way back to the airport. “I have no idea. The man I saw working at the lumber store in West Plains was the Bobby Benson who worked with me as a spotter. We remembered the same things.”
“Do you think his brother is mistaken?”
He hesitated before answering. “There is a way to find out.”
“How?”
“I need to talk to someone.”
“Joseph?”
He nodded.
“Will he take your call?”
The side of Wolfe’s mouth twitched. “Yes. Even though he is a big shot right now, I still get requests from him.”
Nadia smiled.
After returning the rental car and checking into their hotel room near the airport, Wolfe sent a text message with only a question mark to a phone number only he knew. The call came five minutes later.
“Good evening, Michael. Everything okay?” There was a bit of concern in Joseph Kincaid’s voice, a tone Wolfe seldom heard from the man.
“Everything is good, Joseph. I have a request.”
“Good. I received an excellent report about your last assignment.”
“Glad to hear.”
“Is there anything wrong?”
“No. Nadia and I have a mystery on our hands. I need information.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“I need the military records of a Marine Sergeant Robert Benson, discharged 2008.”
“Hmmm…”
“Can you get them?”
“Should be able to. It might be tomorrow.”
“Not a problem. We’re on a six-a.m. flight. Call in the afternoon.”
“I’ll send it to your secondary email box. I won’t ask where you are.”
“Probably best.”
With the flight time and two-plus hour drive from the Springfield Branson National Airport, Michael and Nadia did not arrive at the Howell County sheltered house until mid-afternoon. An email waited for retrieval when he opened the account. Wolfe read it, downloaded the file attached and then deleted the email.
The military file revealed little Wolfe did not already know about Bobby, except the last year of his enlistment. He’d served various short stints in the brig for disorderly conduct.
Wolfe frowned as he read the last few pages of his friend’s military record. His thoughts were interrupted by Nadia appearing next to him.
“Michael, I thought the sheriff was supposed to tell you about the autopsy report.”
“He was. I haven’t heard anything, yet. Why?”
“I just got a text message from Bobby’s girlfriend. She indicated the sheriff told her his death has been ruled a suicide. She wants to talk to you.”
The corner of Wolfe’s mouth twitched. “He hasn’t contacted me. Wonder what that’s all about.”
Chapter 13
Rural Howell County Missouri
J ana Meyers inherited the home, originally built by her grandparents, from her father when he passed away. The structure appeared well maintained but in need of a few modern updates. Two stories with columns across the front portico, it still possessed the wood bench suspended by heavy iron chains on the right side. Jana sat on the porch swing, moving slowly back and forward despite the cold afternoon temperature. As Wolfe and Nadia parked in her gravel driveway, she stood.
Wolfe, having only met the woman once, did not feel he knew her, whereas Nadia thought of her as a friend. When Nadia stepped out of the Jeep, Jana ran to her and sobbed as they embraced. The woman’s eyes were red from crying and Wolfe wondered how long she had been on the porch waiting for them.
Not wishing to intrude on the woman’s grief, he stayed in the yard as the two friends climbed the three steps leading up to the porch and entered the house.
He had another reason for staying outside. He noticed Bobby’s fifteen-year-old Ford F-150 parked next to the detached garage. Curious, he examined the truck bed. Except for a few small twigs and brown dried leaves, it was clean. He checked the cab and found the
driver’s side unlocked. As he opened it, he immediately noticed the uncluttered interior, a condition Bobby felt unnatural for a working man’s pickup. With his curiosity satisfied, he closed the truck door and headed back to the front porch to enter the home.
Jana Meyer sat in a high-back Boston Rocker, each hand gripping the wooden arms hard enough to cause white knuckles. She stared at a blank space on the opposite wall, tears flowing down her round face. Nadia stood next to her with a hand on her shoulder. Neither woman spoke as Wolfe entered the living room.
Looking up at him, Jana asked, “Why?”
“I wish I knew.”
More tears flowed. Shorter than Nadia by five inches, Jana Meyer possessed curly blonde hair she wore not quite to her shoulders. A round face, crystal blue eyes and small petite nose completed the package. Today the eyes were red from crying and her hair was disheveled. A year ago, when Nadia had needed her hair trimmed, Bobby recommended his girlfriend, a local beautician. The two had developed, over the course of the year, as much of a friendship as Nadia would allow.
Wolfe leaned against the brick fireplace as he studied the younger woman. He had questions. “Jana, why is Bobby’s truck here?”
She looked up at Wolfe, sniffled and said, “Three weeks ago, my car was in the shop. Bobby was letting me use his pickup.” She dabbed at her tears with a tissue. “Did you know he was promoted to yard supervisor a month ago?”
Frowning, Wolfe shook his head. “Nadia and I’ve been out of town. No, we didn’t know that.”
“Well, he was. He seemed happy and content. We even started talking about getting married.” Her voice shook as more tears streaked her face.
Nadia said softly, “Tell Michael what you told me a minute ago.”
Wiping her tears again with the tissue, she stared up at him. “When I dropped him off at the lumberyard, he told me I didn’t have to pick him up after work. An old marine buddy was in town and they were going to dinner. If he needed a ride, he would call me. He never called and that was the last time I saw him.”
Standing straight, Wolfe’s expression darkened. “Did he say who the friend was?”
