by Dave Daren
“You mean, now that Hup is dead,” Watkins replied, and I could have slapped him for such an obvious set up.
There was a long moment of silence, and I could imagine Crenshaw staring at the Deputy with a long, measured look. He would have wondered what Watkins was up to, and probably guessed that the Deputy was making his own recording.
“Right, now that Hup is dead,” Crenshaw said slowly. “How’s that investigation going?”
“Sheriff still wants to pin it on some mafia guy,” Watkins replied. “But the only one we got has an alibi.”
“Not if you do your job,” Crenshaw said. “I want you to grab the girl and take her somewhere you can get rid of her.”
“But she’s already made a statement,” Watkins protested.
“I don’t care about that,” Crenshaw snapped. “Look, if she’s gone, you can find a way to turn that against the lawyer, and I won’t have to worry about someone reporting our meetings. It’s a win-win.”
“She’s holed up at the inn,” Watkins mused. “I’m not sure how I can take her out of there without someone seeing.”
“Figure it out,” Crenshaw replied.
There was the sound of feet scuffing against something and another few words I couldn’t understand. The recording cut off for a moment, and then I could hear what sounded like a pebble bounce of one of the carts.
“I said I’d do it,” Watkins said in a frustrated tone. “I’ve got an idea for a diversion.”
“God, you sound like a six-year old trying to break into the cabinet to steal the cookies,” Crenshaw sniped. “I don’t need the details, just do it.”
“And what about Hup?” Watkins whined.
“What about Hup?” Crenshaw shot back.
“Well, what happened?” Watkins asked. “I was there when Hup told you to come by for the meetin’, remember?”
The silence dragged on, and I pictured Crenshaw as he scanned the cave in a search for Watkins’ recording device. He had to know one was there, and it was something of a miracle he hadn’t found it and removed it when he took his own microphone from the mine.
“We had an argument,” Crenshaw finally said. “He wouldn’t stop the sale. He just kept saying that he could handle it and I needed to calm down. He wouldn’t listen to me when I told him he had no idea how much the guys in New York hated the Febbos and how many agents would descend on the place if the deal went through. That moron really believed he could walk into the middle of a war between the FBI and the Mafia and somehow emerge as the winner.”
Crenshaw’s voice had gone from angry and frustrated as he spoke to almost regretful at the end. He had been in the Navy and then joined the FBI, so at some point, he had believed in truth and justice. I had no idea when he had lost that, but he did seem to regret at least part of what he had become.
“So you tried to make it look like a Mafia killing?” Watkins asked. “That was pretty smart. Too bad that cute chick decided she wanted some that night. We could have been rid of that lawyer as well, sent him off to the state pen for a few months. By the time they would’ve gotten him out, we’d have been running everything.”
“Just get rid of the girl,” Crenshaw replied. “Once she’s gone, we can deal with Mr. Morgan and the Sheriff.”
“Sheriff Watkins,” the deputy declared. “I like the sound of that.”
“Fucking moron,” Crenshaw said.
The recorder cut out again then, and the next sound was my voice saying ‘well, well’.
“Oh, my,” Belle declared as I turned off the device. “Seems things were even more crooked than I thought. No honor among thieves, obviously. Do you suppose Deputy Watkins and Mr. Crenshaw would have killed the Sheriff?”
“It does sound like that was the plan,” I replied. “I wonder who they intended to pin that on.”
“You, if you were still around,” she said. “Though it does sound like Watkins intended to send you off to the state penitentiary for the murder of Hup, so blame might have fallen on whatever stranger they could find.”
“Crenshaw was so worried about the FBI sending people here,” I mused. “How could they not send people if all these bodies had started to turn up?”
“He probably wasn’t thinking too clearly at that point,” she replied. “He must have been in panic mode when he couldn’t convince Hup to stop the deal.”
“He was in the Navy and then the FBI,” I said. “I don’t think those guys panic.”
“Not in a normal situation,” she agreed. “But this was a man who was about to see his investment go up in flames.”
“Hup must have been paying him pretty well,” I noted.
“You’d be amazed at the ways Hup could find cash,” Belle remarked. “I never would have thought there was so much money to be found in our county, but Hup always seemed to know where it was and how to get some.”
“I think we need to let Harris listen to this,” I replied.
“Why?” Belle asked in surprise.
“He should know what was going on in his county,” I said.
“He knows,” she said. “He was a part of it.”
“It also helps him close the book on Hup and Watkins,” I pointed out. “Well, on Hup. Watkins is still open, but I doubt he’ll want to look too closely after he hears this.”
“And what do you hope to accomplish by helping him?” she asked.
“His help,” I said. “And a chance to save the deal for the mine.”
Belle looked skeptical as she adjusted the frame of her glasses, but I refused to budge under her sharp stare. The Sheriff was a survivor, and I was sure he would see that his best path forward was to help me.
“You can do this,” she finally said. “But I want you to know that I don’t like it.”
“The deadline’s at noon tomorrow,” I replied. “I’m running out of options.”
“You could just walk away from the money and the mine,” she pointed out.
“Not yet,” I said. “Not while there’s still a chance to pull this off.”
Belle sighed and pointed me towards the phone on her desk. While I dialed, she placed the corkboard in a corner facing the wall and tucked away anything that related to one of her cases.
“Sheriff Harris,” Shifty said when he answered the phone.
“Sheriff, it’s Morgan Hunter,” I said.
“Was wonderin’ where you were,” he drawled. “I saw the EPA man was over at the inn. Your hippie bus is still there, by the way. You know, if you’re not a guest there anymore, you can’t be parked in their lot. I could have it towed.”
“Can you hold off for a bit?” I asked with as much grace as I could muster. “There’s something you need to hear, and it could help us keep the deal if you’re still willing to help.”
Harris huffed, and a moment later there was a splat, which I assumed was another bit of tobacco juice dropping into the cup.
“This deal is startin’ to seem like a curse to me,” he muttered.
“You don’t even know the half of it,” I replied. “Just come to Belle’s office. You need to hear this.”
“I’ve got to check on the church first,” Harris sighed. “Someone took a spray can to some of the tombstones. I’ll be there in half an hour or so.”
He hung up before I could argue, and I glared at the receiver before I set back in the cradle.
“Half an hour,” I told Belle. “He has to go by the church first.”
“Let me guess,” the older attorney said as she moved towards the office door. “Someone spray painted some of the stones again. You’d think they’d get tired of that.”
She was still talking as she moved into the reception area, and then the employee area on the other side of the building. I only caught bits and pieces, but it sounded like she was still talking about the spray painters. I heard the clink of cups and a cabinet being opened and closed, and a few minutes later, Belle reappeared with a tray laden with a teapot, three cups, and a bag of Mint Milano cookies.
“Well, everyone knows that Josh is the leader,” Belle said as she set the tray on the table. “If the Sheriff would just do something about that boy, all of this nonsense would stop.”
“Won’t the tea be cold by the time the Sheriff gets here?” I asked.
“Oh, I can refill it when he arrives,” she said. “In the meantime, there’s no law that says we can’t take a moment to relax while we wait.”
I wasn’t in the mood to relax, with the deadline looming, a team of EPA scientists on the way, and a Sheriff who seemed to hate me yet again. I also wanted to call Lila just to let her know where the minibus was and what had happened to Crenshaw, but Belle placed a cup of fragrant tea in front of me and a pair of cookies, and I found that I really wanted to nibble on the chocolate and mint treat after all.
By the time the Sheriff’s car pulled into the lot, Belle and I had eaten the entire package of cookies and made out our list of must see summer movies. When we heard the crunch of tires on the crushed rock, Belle carried the pot and the empty package back to the employee area for a ‘quick refresher’ while I opened the front door and watched Harris emerge from his cruiser.
“This better be good,” he said as he stomped his feet on the steps to knock off a crust of dirt and mud.
I didn’t say anything, just stepped aside and nodded towards the door to the office. Harris glanced towards the employee area, where Belle could be heard putting together another pot of tea, then shrugged and strode towards Belle’s office. Harris sat down in one of the armchairs, and I saw his eye go instantly to the recorder although he didn’t make any comments. I wondered if he recognized it, but he seemed determined to remain silent until he knew why he was here.
I pulled the rolling desk chair over to the table, and then sat down in the second armchair. I stared at the painting over the fireplace while Harris fiddled with one of his cuffs, and still neither of us spoke. At last, Belle appeared with the pot and another bag of cookies and sat down gracefully in the desk chair.
“Well, you two are certainly quiet,” she mused. “My mother always said that was bad news.”
The Sheriff and I glanced at each other, then focused on the cups as Belle distributed more tea and Mint Milanos.
“You know I’m not a fan of tea,” the Sheriff complained as he downed half the cup in one long gulp.
“I know,” she replied as she refilled his cup.
Harris pulled a cookie from the package and sipped more slowly at his tea. When he polished off the cookie, he cast an inquisitive look at me and Belle.
“Well, I guess the easiest way to do this is to play the recording,” Belle declared. “Then we can talk.”
Watkins’ and Crenshaw’s voices filled the room once again, and even though I knew what to expect, it was still a shock to hear what Watkins and Crenshaw had planned. The Sheriff’s expression went from mildly interested to seriously perturbed, and when my own voice finally ended the recording, the Sheriff’s eyes were closed and hidden behind one large hand.
“Where did you get this?” the Sheriff asked.
“In the mine,” I said. “I found it today while Bam was walking Dr. Xi to the spots he wanted to test. That was your regular meeting place, right? For you, Hup, Crenshaw, even Bam when he was still part of the group. That’s why Carl didn’t do such a good job of keeping people away.”
“He started cracking down after we found the graffiti,” Harris noted. “We told him we couldn’t have a bunch of kids walking in on our meetings.”
“Did you know Crenshaw was recording the meetings?” I asked.
Harris shook his head and slowly lowered his hand.
“I’m not surprised,” Harris said. “I warned Hup that we couldn’t trust him. Hell, we didn’t even know his real name, just that he’d taken some tree hugger’s place.”
“But he brought Hup money,” Belle suggested.
“Enough that Hup wanted to keep him around,” Harris replied.
“Until the offer for the mine,” I added.
“Bam was pretty tight-lipped about the offer,” Harris said. “He didn’t trust us after his first buyer went missing. But Tweedy was a fool, thought he could turn Hup in and he’d be safe.”
“What happened to Tweedy?” I asked.
Harris shook his head again, then studied the painting.
“I can’t be sure,” Harris replied. “I told Hup to just let the man go, and if he did file a complaint, I would be in charge of the investigation. Hup would pay some piddling fine, and we’d suggest that Mr. Tweedy build his bunker somewhere else. I know Watkins went by Hup’s house after that discussion, and I just figured that Hup decided to handle it differently.”
“So Watkins was in pretty deep as well,” I mused. “How often did he meet with Crenshaw?”
“Not that often, at least, that I know of,” the Sheriff said. “He used to deliver messages occasionally. But this. This sounds like… like Watkins and Crenshaw planned to take over.”
“They did,” I agreed. “And I suspect you were due for an accident of your own.”
Harris actually looked shaken, though there was still an angry glint in his eye. I knew then that he hadn’t been aware of Watkins’ deception or just how close he had come to being another statistic.
“So now what?” Harris asked.
“I only have one mission,” I said. “To see this deal through.”
“So you keep tellin’ me,” the Sheriff chuckled.
“Have you gathered the evidence I told you to pull together?” I asked.
“I might have some,” he said suspiciously.
“Look, the recording doesn’t implicate you in much,” I said. “If anything, it makes it clear that Crenshaw and Watkins wanted you out of the way. So if you have a paper trail that will link payments between Crenshaw, Hup and Watkins, or even just Crenshaw and Hup, I know how we can use that to get the EPA off the property.”
“By tomorrow afternoon?” the Sheriff asked in disbelief.
“If your evidence is good enough,” I replied.
Harris looked at Belle, who nodded even though she had no idea what I intended to do or how I could end the EPA’s investigation.
“I’ve got everything you need,” he replied.
“Then I’ve got one more phone call to make,” I said. “And I’ll need to get that recording converted to a digital file that I can send by email.”
“Oooh, I can take care of that,” Belle said with excitement.
“And I’ll put together a file,” the Sheriff said with less enthusiasm.
“You’ll be fine,” I told the Sheriff. “If we do this right, you’ll keep your job, and we’ll be able to close this deal tomorrow.”
Harris didn’t look convinced, but he followed Belle from the room when she snatched up the recorder and announced she was going to visit her nerdy nephew. I waited until I heard both car doors slam and the cars pull out of the lot before I picked up the landline again and dialed a number in Manhattan.
The phone rang several times before a deep basso answered.
“Duvernay,” the man said.
“Agent Duvernay,” I replied. “This is Hunter Morgan. How would you like to take a trip to West Virginia?”
“What’s in West Virginia?” the treasury agent asked.
“A crooked FBI agent, a dead property appraiser, and a lot of money,” I replied.
“Mr. Morgan, you always call me with the most interesting stories,” he chuckled.
Chapter 18
Agent Duvernay listened to my convoluted story with only a few interruptions to press for details. I omitted Harris’ and Bam’s part in the scam, mostly because I still needed both of them to make sure the deal went through. I promised plenty of information to back up my story, and even provided the license plate for the stolen truck and Crenshaw’s real name.
“I can send you the recording tonight,” I finished. “But I need to know that the EPA won’t interfere with the deal.”
; “You know I love to take down the FBI a peg or two,” Duvernay replied. “And I’ll have no problem convincing my superiors to take action on this. I can’t make any promises about the EPA though. Those eco guys can be hard to dislodge once they catch a whiff of dangerous chemicals and big time polluters.”
“Surely somebody at Treasury knows somebody at EPA,” I remarked.
“Let me get the ball rolling,” Duvernay replied. “And send me that file as soon as you can.”
“Consider it sent,” I replied.
I stared at Belle’s desk after I hung up, then realized I was stuck for the moment. I could probably walk back to town, though I wasn’t sure what else I could do while I was there. There was also the problem of what to do about Belle’s office. I didn’t have a key so there was no way to lock up before I left.
I dialed Belle’s cell phone number but she didn’t answer, I hoped because she was simply out of range and not because she didn’t want to tell me that the nephew hadn’t been able to convert the recording. I looked around the room one more time, then pulled out the cork board and my folder, and went back over every scrap of evidence I’d accumulated. There were some gaps in the information I had, things I could guess at but didn’t have any evidence to support. I hoped Harris would be able to fill in the gaps with whatever he had, though I wasn’t sure if he would emerge unscathed once the investigation began in earnest. I wondered how many of Crenshaw’s and Watkins’ recordings would come to light and figured that Shifty and Bam would face some harsh scrutiny once they did.
The sun was low in the sky by the time I heard gravel crunching in the lot again. I returned to the reception area and peered out the window as Belle, her gray hair falling out of its tidy bun, emerged from the Suzuki with the recorder and a laptop. She bounded up the steps to the porch, and nearly dropped the laptop in surprise when I opened the door.
“Oh,” she said. “I forgot you were here. Well, actually, I just thought you might have left.”
“No ride,” I commented. “And until I could send the recording, not much else to do.”
“Oh, right,” she replied. “Well, I’ve got the original, which I’ll just lock away for now, and a high quality copy that we can email to your friend.”
