by Nat Williams
Bachelor didn’t respond. He shuffled through the manila folder filled with contemporary masterpieces in crayon, the work of six-year-old budding artist Molly Bachelor.
CHAPTER 44
Doug Munro watched from a partially opened door of the sheriff’s office as Purcell left the courthouse and headed toward his truck. Bachelor returned to his office. Munro and Carroll had already moved from behind the desk and stood beside it. Bachelor stood at his desk and resumed his pencil-tapping routine. He looked at Munro.
“Well, go ahead.”
“Go ahead and what?”
“Tell me how I screwed that up. Think I was too aggressive?”
Munro pulled out a chair and sat down. Bachelor and Carroll followed suit.
“I don’t think you screwed it up. I doubt if I would have done anything different. The noose is tightening. We’re getting closer and he knows it. Don’t be discouraged.”
“I thought it was good,” Carroll said. “Purcell’s coming unraveled. That means he’ll be more likely to slip up.”
“I agree,” Munro said.
“So it’s time for the next step,” Bachelor said. “We need to see if Obie can lead us to the promised land. But this will be a delicate operation, wouldn’t you say?”
“Surveillance may be the key. We can follow Obie, David and Janet around for a two-fold purpose - gather more evidence and learn what shakes Obie’s tree. Make it seem as if cooperating with us is the best of some bad options.”
“On the other hand, what if we’re missing something?” Bachelor said. “What if we’re on the wrong track and Janet is involved? And if she’s involved somehow, maybe Obie is too.”
“That’s a possibility. But I believe we’re in agreement that Janet and Obie are weak suspects. And you’ve lost David; he’s lawyered up. So we … you … have to take the next step. I believe they’re clean. Sure, profiling is overrated, but observational skills have value. I’ve spent a lot of my career examining the outward manifestation of inward feelings and I feel pretty good about Janet and Obie being on the outside of this crime.”
Bachelor gestured to Carroll.
“J.C., why don’t you head out to Tucker’s current address? Ask him if he remembers anything else. Keep your ears and eyes open.”
“Good idea,” Carroll said, grabbing his hat. “I’m sure I can wing it.”
After Carroll left, Munro looked down pensively.
“Sheriff, I don’t want to butt in on your case. But I’d be glad to help out with the surveillance. I don’t mean any offense.”
“The only offense is calling me sheriff. From now on it’s Frank, OK?”
“Understood.”
“And I’m warming to the idea of you running surveillance. Your observational skills could come in handy.”
“I need to stay in the saddle,” Munro said. “Plus, maybe I can pick up some more leads in my case.”
Bachelor grinned.
“What?” Munro said.
“You haven’t gotten involved in anything like this in a while, have you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ll bet you don’t get a chance very often to roll up your sleeves and jump into some good, old-fashioned cop work. Don’t you mainly run white-collar stuff? I have an idea you relish the adventure.”
Munro smiled.
“If you’re not careful you’re going to start finishing my sentences. I have to admit, chasing bad-boy bean counters often lacks a certain - shall we say - jouissance. But it’s my job. And I’m pretty good at it.”
“This is more challenging though, right?” Bachelor said.
“I wouldn’t say it’s more challenging. Unraveling a Ponzi scheme or navigating the maze of a money-laundering operation requires real focus, not to mention a creative approach.”
“But …”
“But there’s something about a straightforward violent crime. Maybe it’s the survivors. Family, friends, neighbors, colleagues. They have faces, unlike victims of a lot of the crimes I investigate. You can talk to them, touch them, get a real sense for what they’re going through. That kind of thing really charges you up. It brings out the empathy that would have been absent during a perp chase of a naughty banker or greedy stockbroker.”
“I can see that,” Bachelor said.
“Some of these federal cases can be mind-numbing. But there’s more.”
“More?”
“Yeah. It’s refreshing to work with someone whose rubber grips the road. I have no doubt that you’re perfectly capable of solving this thing on your own. But I sense you’re not a man who cares about credit, about ego. You’re a man who wants to do the right thing, to bring justice. I know it sounds corny, but isn’t that why we both got into law enforcement?”
“Well, that and the groupies,” Bachelor said. “But you’re right. Maybe my department, with help from other cop shops, could solve this. But I’d be foolish to turn down assistance from someone who has a different perspective and strengths. And certainly a burning desire to help solve a brutal crime.”
“You’ve talked to Obie, right?” Munro said.
“Yeah.”
“Alibi?”
“About as weak as David Purcell’s. He said he was at home all night.”
“Let me guess. He lives alone.”
“Yep.”
Munro paced and rubbed his chin.
“So he has no reason to believe he’s not a suspect.”
“Right.”
“Then you can use that to your advantage. Nothing like a little negative reinforcement to convince a suspect to do the right thing. I’m sure if he’s innocent he’d welcome the opportunity to get the cops off his ass and onto someone else.”
“Ever run surveillance?” Bachelor said.
“Many times. For excitement, it ranks right up there with watching paint dry. But this will be different. I’m not trying to find someone or even trying to spot a crime. It’s just like pulling up the shades a little to get a better view of the players in this tragedy.”
“All right. Let’s do it.”
“One more thing. I need to borrow your truck. It won’t draw the same attention as my CTS.”
Bachelor pulled the keys out of his pocket and handed them to Munro. Munro traded his keys.
“Just bring it back in one piece, OK?” Bachelor said.
“This is a surveillance, not a high-speed chase.”
“Still …”
“Don’t worry. I may even run it through the car wash for you. God knows it could use a shower.”
CHAPTER 45
Bachelor waved Tim Mofield into his office. Mofield was an investigator with the Illinois State Police and a casual acquaintance. He was tall and thin with a Roman nose and long, red hair.
“How are you?” Bachelor asked as he rose and shook Mofield’s hand. “Been a while.”
“Yeah, it has. Good to see you again, Frank. I was in the neighborhood. Passing through, actually. Just wanted to see if you might need a hand.”
“Well, I’m behind on these expense reports.”
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
“Seriously, FSC has been great,” Bachelor said. “They’ve really done a bang-up job on forensics. Good people.”
“Yeah, they are. I was wandering if you’re looking for any assistance from State. Big crime. Lot of pressure. You know I’m always willing to do what I can.”
“Thanks, Tim. I really appreciate that. Right now we’ve got the wheels oiled. We’re moving in a good direction.”
“Suspects?”
“Got a couple. I’m feeling good about how things are going.”
Mofield picked up a stress ball on Bachelor’s desk and squeezed it.
“I understand there’s a federal guy involved.”
“Wow. Where did you get that?”
“Well, I am a detective, after all.”
Bachelor grinned.
“And a good one,” he said. “Anyway, a
n FBI agent has been working some case around here. We’ve crossed paths. Hard not to in such a small place. But it has nothing to do with the Van Okin murders. That’s out of my hands. And my jurisdiction.”
“I don’t doubt that you’re doing a good job on the murder case. I just wanted to offer my assistance, that’s all.”
Bachelor stood up, signaling that the impromptu meeting was over. He stuck his hand out again.
“I really appreciate that, Tim. You’ll be the first person I’ll call if I get snagged.”
Mofield acted if he were going to say something else, then paused, turned and walked out of the office.
Bachelor’s cellphone rang. He recognized Munro’s number.
“Speaking of the devil.”
“I’ve been called worse,” said the voice on the other end. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. Just shooing away an offer of assistance from a state cop.”
“Everyone heads to the dance floor when the band plays the big number. I’m sitting here off Leeman Road, a couple hundred yards from the Lynch residence, waiting for Obie to head toward the orchard. By the way, thanks for letting me borrow your pickup truck. It won’t attract any attention except from vultures and Bondo salesmen.”
“Very funny. What are you expecting to find?”
“No idea. That’s the point. I’m just observing. Observation can lead to a lot of things. Or to nothing. We’ll see.”
“Well, I appreciate the help,” Bachelor said. “It probably seems to a lot of people like all I should be working on is this murder, but the sun still rises and sets. Folders pile up. Time sheets have to be approved.”
“Aw, paperwork. The colonoscopy of police work. The lowest level. Other than hours and hours on a stakeout, that is.”
“You always find a brown lining. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll keep me updated while I’m scheduling evaluations and approving vacation requests.”
“It may be a slow day for both of us,” Munro said. “But I have a feeling it’ll speed up when we least expect it.”
“No doubt,” Bachelor said. “But we’ll be ready, won’t we?”
“Steady and ready. Talk to you later.”
Munro didn’t have to wait long. Shortly after his conversation with Bachelor he saw Obie’s Dodge Dakota pull out of his drive and head east toward the orchard.
He followed at a distance for about six miles through winding roads that eventually led him to the packing shed. David Purcell was nowhere in sight. Munro pulled off the side of the road on a cutout, parking the truck and keeping an eye on the building.
Obie walked in, and a few minutes later walked out with Janet and got into the truck. They seemed very comfortable with one another, sharing what appeared to be intimate conversation.
They headed out of the parking lot, taking the blacktop south. Munro eased onto the road, keeping a safe distance. After about a half-mile the couple took a left on a dirt road leading to one of the orchards. Munro pulled over and parked in a field, taking out and focusing his binoculars.
They walked around and observed a few peach trees. Munro thought he detected them getting closer than would be proper for a married boss and her male employee. The morning haze obstructed Munro’s view, but he could see that Obie had his arm around Janet’s waist as they walked through the orchard.
About 10 minutes later, a small tractor driven by a Mexican worker rolled up one of the paths between the rows of trees. It pulled a flatbed trailer with a wooden plank floor. Three Mexicans relaxed in the trailer, sharing the space with a few ladders, canvas picking bags and a five-gallon water cooler.
Janet and Obie said something to them, pointing in two directions. The four men moved instinctively, strapping on their bags and each grabbing a straight wooden ladder.
Munro had seen all he needed to see. But he lingered a while. He’d never watched anyone pick fruit in an orchard. The speed, skill and dexterity of the workers fascinated him. It was a beautiful exemplification of pure efficiency. After all, he had learned from Roseanne Cook that piece work made up part of their salary. The more you pick, the more you make.
The more I find, the more you make, he thought. Good slogan for a private dick business. He’d have to consider that if he ever decided to leave the Bureau and head out on his own.
CHAPTER 46
Janet Purcell was waiting for her husband to walk through the front door. She hadn’t seen him all day and it was about 8 p.m. She was folding laundry in the living room when she heard David’s pickup truck pull into the drive. He got out of the truck and staggered in. He reeked of alcohol.
“You’re home late,” she said. “Lefty’s?”
“Not all day.”
“Just most of it?”
“Don’t start. I was making some calls. Doing some business.”
“I didn’t see you at the orchard.”
“There’s other business, you know,” he said.
He opened the refrigerator door, pulled out a can of beer and popped the top. He took a long swig.
“It doesn’t seem like much is getting done,” Janet said.
David crushed the can with his hand and threw it against the wall. The remaining beer spewed across the wall and floor, leaving finger-like stains.
Janet backed up a step. She chose not to say anything. (unnecessary?)
David glared at his wife.
“You know, this has been really stressful for me, too. But you don’t think about that, do you? You think you’re the only one who is suffering. I am too. Your folks were my folks. My parents were taken away too, remember. Violently.”
Janet grabbed hold of the edge of the dining room table.
“I know, David. So why are you pulling away? What’s going on?”
David didn’t respond. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out another beer. Janet strode toward him, as if she were going to comfort him. Instead, she pulled a poison arrow out of her quiver.
“Did you have something to do with it?”
David took a long slug. Then another. He glared at her.
“With what?”
Janet kept her lips closed.
“Who have you been listening to?”
“Did you, David?”
“You know I didn’t.”
“Then why are the cops on you all the time?”
“Because they don’t have any fucking idea what to do. So they’re following in-laws. In-laws always get that kind of treatment. Don’t you know that? It’s classic. It’s what they always do.”
“God, David. You’re bombed.”
He took another swig and stumbled toward Janet.
“Yeah, I’m bombed. What are you? Who’s to say you didn’t have anything to do with it? You and your dad weren’t always lovey-dovey. Maybe you took an opportunity to get rid of your folks, take what they have left.”
Janet pursed her lips, strode toward David and didn’t hesitate before slapping him. David backed up, shocked.
“You fuckin’ bitch!”
He shoved her hard against the wall. It was so forceful it knocked the breath out of her. She was able to duck just as David attempted a right cross to her jaw.
Janet wrested herself away from David’s grip and grabbed the closest object to her, which happened to be a wooden pepper mill. She threw it with all her might, hitting him in the forehead, which started to bleed.
“You fucking whore,” he said. “Just like your mother.”
Janet froze.
“Yeah, I’ve heard shit. She wasn’t the happy homemaker in the perfect home married to the perfect doctor.”
Janet pulled a cleaver from the knife block on the counter and threatened him with it.
“You better get your ass out of here,” she said, sweeping it through the air. She was too far from him to make contact, but close enough to get the message across.
He held his arms out from his sides, stretching them straight. A crooked smile appeared and a trickle of blood ran down the bridge of his
nose. He swayed, trying to keep his balance.
“Go ahead. Do it,” he taunted her. “Put me out of my misery.”
“Get out!” she said as she pulled the cleaver back.
He raised his head, as if gazing at the ceiling, and made a slicing motion across his exposed throat with his index finger.
“Come on, just one swing. Cut my fuckin’ head off! Why not? You talk big and you act big. Can’t finish the job, can you?”
“Get out!” she repeated.
“Gladly.”
David threw open the door and lumbered toward his truck. Janet followed him, stopping on the front steps.
“Don’t bother coming back until you sober up,” she said as he opened the door and swung his lanky body into the cab.
Doug Munro, parked down the road, pulled his binoculars down. He couldn’t tell what she was saying. It didn’t matter. He had seen enough.
CHAPTER 47
“Have you tried the open-face roast beef here?” Munro said as he scanned a menu at Roy’s Diner.
“No. But I hear it’s good,” Bachelor said.
“I’ll try it,” Munro said to the waitress, a perky, twenty-something with a quick smile and a clean apron. Must have been early in her shift, Munro thought. “It comes with mashed potatoes and gravy, right?”
“Yeah, and one other side.”
“Can I see that again?”
She looked at the menu Munro was holding, pointing to the section titled Sides.
“Aw, that’s easy. Gotta have the mac and cheese.”
Bachelor ordered a Reuben on rye and handed off his menu to the waitress. He turned to Munro and shook his head.
“Ever think about eating a vegetable?”
“Hey, the last time I checked, potatoes are vegetables.”
Bachelor shook his head and took a drink of ice water from a plastic tumbler.
“Whatever. So you said your Peeping Tom excursion yielded something.”
Munro described his dual surveillance of Obie, Janet and David.
“I thought World War III was going to break out at the Purcell house,” he said. “There’s some serious friction, and it isn’t just the stress of dealing with the aftermath of a double murder. I think Obie’s going to be our guy wire. Get it? That’s a pun.”
