by Terry McGhee
I think I started to blush a little as a round of clapping brought Sarah running in to see what was going on.
Sam stood and reached his hand across the large table. “Jake, the FBI is also grateful. It’s just too bad that forty years ago, we didn’t try to recruit you…I mean it sincerely.”
I wanted to say, ‘Aw shucks, it warn’t nothin,’ but I restrained myself. Best if you accept the thanks and then keep your mouth shut.
Hannity cleared his throat. “Well, alrighty then. Let me get the office covered and we can adjourn for lunch. Our retired detective is picking up the tab.”
We all walked out the rear door and headed for the burger restaurant. Sarah was excited and tucked her arm through mine and said, “Lead on, Detective.”
We were almost finished with our all-natural beef burger when Hannity’s phone started to vibrate. He opened the phone, stood up, and walked a few paces away. He immediately closed the phone, turned, and asked that Sam and I come with him back to the station. “Everyone else please stay and have dessert. As we walked out, I told the manager that the tab was on me and that I would be right back.
The duty officer that had taken Sarah’s place was standing outside on the sidewalk in front of the station. “Inspector, you have an urgent call from that Officer Jordan in Denver. He says to call. He has some news for you.”
We headed for Hannity’s office and crowded inside. Hannity punched in the number on his desk phone and turned on the speaker. “Boulder police Department, Officer Smith, how can I direct your call?”
“Officer Smith, this is Inspector Hannity returning a call from Jordan. I have Jake and Agent Sam Jenkins from the FBI here in my office. The phone speaker is on.”
“Hold on inspector, I’ll get Officer Jordan.” We waited about one minute, and then Jordan came on the line.
“Hello Inspector, Jake, Sam. I’ve got some news about our search for this Al Jerkovick. I went out a second time this morning with the search team. We used a damned good bloodhound and made a sweep of another section of the thick forest where we felt our escapee would have fled. Within one hour, this hound was turned loose as he definitely had Jerkovick’s scent. The old dog started barking and led us to the base of a large pine tree. The hound was running around the tree with his nose to the ground. I picked up a single shoe…definitely prison issue. It was caked with blood. We all looked up into the tree branches, and then we saw what the hound had sniffed out. Straddling a thick branch about thirty feet up was a body.
“Two of the younger mountain guides in our group grabbed a rope and began to climb the tree. I put my binocs on the body, but couldn’t see the face. It was definitely a male. One of the climbers examined the body and hollered down that it was our escaped prisoner. The bottom part of Al Jerkovick’s leg and foot were seriously mangled. Had to be a black bear that was hungry or maybe Jerkovick got between momma and her cub. Nothing is as vicious as a momma bear who thinks her baby is in danger.
“They lowered the body, and we could tell immediately that he must have bled out. The bite marks and claw tears in the lower leg were deep, and the ground at the foot of the tree was heavily saturated with blood. We won’t know for sure until our coroner examines it. He could have also just frozen to death. I’m guessing he’d been dead for almost forty-eight hours.
“Are you still with me?” Jordan asked.
“Yeah, hold on a second,” Hannity said. He looked at us and asked, “Comments?”
Sam spoke up. “Officer Jordan, this is Agent Jenkins. We will need some DNA material from this corpse. You know we dug up the body of what we believe is the person he is believed to have murdered. Your expert, Dr. Potter, will be doing a DNA analysis of the victim’s teeth. We also found some hair samples, which might have been clutched in the hand of the victim. We need to prove that Al Jerkovick was the attacker that killed Roy. The hair just might be enough to put this case to bed.”
Jordan replied as we listened. “No problem on that, we have the DNA samples from when he was arrested and booked, and I can get whatever you need directly from his body. If you have Dr. Potter call me, I can get instructions on what exactly she needs.”
Hannity added, “Great work, Jordan. Next time you get out west, give me a call. Maybe we can get together for some real trout fishing.”
“You’re on, Inspector. Let’s talk tomorrow. I should have the coroner’s findings by then.”
In unison, we all said goodbye. Hannity clicked off the line. “Let’s get Sarah, Simpson, and Dr. Potter and her assistant back here. This mystery at Deadfall Lake is not quite over.
Chapter 24
One week later
Barb, I, and the Murph were finally back in retirement mode. I was kicked back in my lounge chair on the deck, listening to the gurgle of our garden ponds and the faint whistling of the wind in the treetops. Murphee had assumed his position between us. Barb was in her favorite chair with her reading glasses pushed up on her head. We had talked through the excitement of the past few weeks. “Why don’t you start writing a short story, fiction of course, about your experience?”
A good thought, but I just wasn’t up to it yet. I wanted a few more weeks of the quiet retirement living I had before I jumped into a bee’s nest and been shot at. It was hot today, and we had a pitcher of ice tea sitting on a side table. I stared at the jug of tea full of ice cubes. A couple pieces of sliced lemon slowly floated on the surface. The pitcher was sweating just like my own forehead. It just couldn’t get any better than this. We had talked about taking that vacation that, just awhile back, seemed well-deserved, but we weren’t quite ready yet. I considered the past few days of unwinding and told myself that any traveling vacation would be work compared to this. Maybe later, or even next year…or maybe not.
I took a sip of the sweet iced tea, set the glass down and looked at Barb. “Dr. Potter has done her analysis. Two of the hairs found at the gravesite gave up their DNA profile. The profile matched that of Al Jerkovick.” God rest his soul. Well, I didn’t actually think Jerkoff was anywhere near God. It was probably quite warm where our murderer’s soul resided.
Wendy’s mom and Roy’s parents had connected, and a small private funeral was planned. Both Wendy and Roy would be buried in our local cemetery beneath old growth Ponderosa pines. Barb and I planned to be there.
Darrel Jerkovick was locked up in one of our state’s maximum prisons. I thought he should have been a top candidate for Old Sparky, the common crude reference to the electric chair. California was in the process of deciding if the death penalty should be abolished. Nothing had been voted on yet. I used to have mixed feelings about it. But now I believed that if you intentionally take a life, you should have to give up your own.
Murphee pricked up his ears, stood, and walked to the end of our deck. I heard the crunch of tires as I spotted a car coming down our driveway. I walked around through the breezeway to the front of the house. A big meaty arm waved to me as an old Ford Bronco pulled up. Hannity got out of the car and said, “Greetings, oh great retired detective investigator.”
I shook the large hand of my now very good friend. “What’s up, Inspector? Come around to the back and have a glass of iced tea.” Murphee stood on the edge of the deck, his tail going a mile a minute. Hannity bent over to give Murph some big ear scratches. I was about to say, “Not too close,” but Murph had already planted a big tongue kiss on Hannity’s face.
Barb got up and gave the big man a hug. “What brings you to this nook of paradise, Inspector?”
Hannity was holding what looked like a framed picture wrapped in brown paper. “I’ve heard from Sam and he sends his best wishes…and this.” He extended the package to me. I was turning it over in my hand when Hannity said, “Open it, doofus.”
We all sat down. Murph tried to stick his nose into the package. We always let the Murph tear open his Christmas presents. He thought this was a gift for him. Barb leaned in. “Yeah, doofus, open it.”
I slipped the stri
ng off and removed the brown paper wrapping. I held up a large, gleaming bronze plaque mounted on what looked like pricey wood. The FBI name and logo were engraved at the top. I started to read out loud: “The Federal Bureau of Investigation hereby recognizes the above named individual as having provided exemplary service to our organization above and beyond the call of duty. Jake Vincent volunteered to assist his local police and the FBI in solving a seventeen-year-old missing person’s cold case. His dedicated and persistent investigative work was a major contribution to solving this challenging crime. Jake Vincent remained undaunted in his pursuit of the truth, even after being fired upon and wounded by the suspect. Most investigators would have backed away after a threat to their life, whereas Jake hardened his resolve to locate the suspected perpetrator of the attack. The FBI is eternally grateful to Jake for playing a major role in the fight against crime.”
Hannity and Barb clapped their hands. Barb was teary-eyed and Murph looked at the plaque quizzically. ”Wow,” I blurted. It was signed by Agent Sam Jenkins and the director of the FBI. “Wow,” I said again. “This is fantastic, but you know I wasn’t actually wounded.” I passed the beautiful plaque over to Barb.
Hannity said, “The Feebs sent me a ‘thank you’ plaque as well. It is hanging on the wall right in our lobby…Sarah’s idea. Good for business she says.”
I turned to Hannity, but he held up his hand. He was dialing a number on his mobile.
I could hear the ringing, and Hannity said, “Hello, it’s me, I have him right here.” Hannity handed me the phone and I said, “Hello, this is Jake, who is this?”
Whoever it was said his name, but I couldn’t hear it. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.” Barb and Hannity had moved in closer and were listening to the caller. I nodded my head as the caller identified himself. I put the phone on speaker and said, “Hello, Director, I’m honored to meet you…er, speak with you.” I told him he was now on speaker and that Inspector Hannity and my wife were listening.
“Jake, Agent Sam Jenkins has briefed me on your assistance on the missing person’s case. I’m told that your assistance was instrumental in solving this cold case. You have the heartfelt thanks from the Federal Bureau of Investigation and from me personally. I understand that you were wounded in the line of duty. For this, I am truly sorry. And Barbara, you should be proud of that husband of yours. Again, thanks to you both for your outstanding investigative work. Please accept this plaque with our undying appreciation.”
Barbara started to speak, probably to say she’d done nothing, but Hannity put his finger to his lips in a hush signal. The FBI director continued. “Here is Agent Jenkins. He has something to say to you both.”
Sam got on the line. Before he could say anything, I thanked him for the beautiful plaque. “The pleasure is all ours, Jake. Hannity has been telling me of your plans for a vacation.” I glanced at Hannity and he nodded. Sam continued. “I told Hannity that the Bureau has the means to reward those who have helped us out. Especially for those wounded in battle, so to speak. We are very pleased to tell you that we are providing you and your wife with a fully paid vacation to Paris, France.”
Barb put her hand over her mouth and her eyes went wide with surprise.
“We have you both booked into a suite at the five-star Four Seasons Hotel for six nights. It’s only steps away from the Champs-Élysées. Hannity also tells me that you are somewhat of a wine connoisseur, so when you check into the hotel, there will be tickets for a river barge wine tour. The dates are of your choosing, following your hotel stay.
“Hannity tells me you have earned a ton of miles during your work career and have banked several free trips. You lucky dog. Save these miles for a time when you’re a little longer in the tooth. The FBI is providing your air transportation. Have you guys ever flown on a Gulf Stream jet?”
I guess I was a little stunned, because Hannity said, “Close your mouth and say something to the man.”
“Sam, Barb and I are very thankful for your generosity. The whole caper was fun for me, if not a bit frightening. But I do ask you not to put me on any active list of available freelance investigators. I’ve had enough and want to get back to my life of doing nothing and playing golf.”
“OK, Jake, you are most welcome. If you guys are ever in DC, look me up. Take care and so long.”
The line clicked off before I could say anything more. Barb hugged me around my neck, and the Murph was sticking his nose between us wanting in on the excitement.
Hannity stood and said, “You earned it, Jake. Enjoy yourselves and don’t look back.”
With that, my big friend said goodbye to us, gave Murphee a scratch, and walked to his Bronco. Barb and I waved goodbye as he disappeared at the end of our driveway.
We both were silent as we sat back down. I held up the plaque. “I’d say that this is a pretty good payday for a little pro bono detective work. So, about that vacation…” We both spoke in unison: “I’m ready.”
The author was born in San Francisco, and grew up in Northern California. He received his BS and MBA degrees from California universities.
Working in technical sales and marketing, he traveled the world on business logging 1.7 million air miles working in 77 foreign countries.
Mr. McGhee and his wife retired to their dream home which they designed and built. The author enjoys golf, hiking, reading, photography, writing, and exploring local small towns and sites on his Vespa motor scooter.
You can visit his blog and leave comments at tmac-traveltales.blogspot.com where he has posted many of his stories, some of which document his more interesting business trips.
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Research has begun on a second novel.
