Fatal Undertaking: A Buryin' Barry Mystery (Buryin' Barry Series)

by Mark de Castrique

  In my head, I heard Travis scream, “You lied.” I felt badly for Pace. Had the accusation been hurled at the preacher? Had Travis died thinking the man of God betrayed him?

  Someone had. Right now Rachel was our only lead.

  Tommy Lee and Shelton entered the sanctuary with Rachel between them. Her red-rimmed eyes stared out of her colorless face. Despite my anger, I felt sorry for her. I wondered how she’d held up under Tommy Lee’s interrogation. If Rachel refused to divulge her source, then he’d use every legal means necessary, including a jail cell, to force her cooperation.

  They stopped at the first pew.

  “Sit here,” Tommy Lee told her.

  She looked at me and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

  Tommy Lee motioned Shelton to stay with her, and then he came to me. “Let’s walk.” He turned to Reverend Pace. “Lester, are you good to sit tight a little while longer?”

  “Yes. But I want to see Travis’ mother tonight, and I can’t go with his blood on my clothes.”

  Tommy Lee grunted as if the next-of-kin notification had just crossed his mind. “Right. Shelton, when Wakefield and Carson relieve you here, take Reverend Pace to his house and then accompany him up to Edna Oakley’s. Offer our condolences.”

  “The boy was a killer,” Shelton said.

  “The boy was a son,” Tommy Lee snapped. “And until I get a match on his prints, he’s the victim of a murder. Nothing more. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” Shelton’s voice squeaked, and, in his dismay, he saluted.

  “Tell Mrs. Oakley I’ll be by tomorrow.” Tommy Lee looked to Pace again. “Lester, if you think she needs to know why Travis was here, then you play it however you want. Just let me know what you said before I see her.”

  Tommy Lee nodded to me and I followed him up the aisle and out of the sanctuary. The rain had stopped and stars broke through the thinning clouds. He walked to the unmarked Crown Vic, opened the door, and grabbed the mike off the two-way. “Reece, you at the roadblock from town?”

  “10-4.” His voice crackled over the speaker.

  “How’s the traffic backup?”

  “Not bad. We closed the road at the intersection with Knollwood so cars can make a right and loop out Horseshoe.”

  “Good. Keep an eye out for a white SUV driven by a videographer from Asheville. His name’s Dave Brock.”

  “He’s here,” Reece said. “Refused to move along. He told me he’s supposed to meet Barry’s wife at the church. I didn’t want to bother you, so I’m letting him cool his heels along the roadside.”

  “Is he within earshot?”

  “No.”

  “Does he know what happened up here?”

  “No.” Reece paused. “But the smartass thinks he does. I told him the road had been closed by a fallen tree, but he just winked at me and said to tell you he’d be glad to push the tree out of the way with his bare hands.”

  “Well, send him through. But don’t tell him anything except to come straight to the church.”

  “10-4.”

  Tommy Lee snapped the mike back on the clip and closed the door.

  “Did Rachel call him?” I asked.

  “No. He called her. He said he got a tip that an arrest was being made at Eagle Creek Church at seven-thirty.”

  “Jesus. The exact time and location. Who told him?”

  Tommy Lee leaned back against the front fender and folded his arms across his chest. “Rachel claims he didn’t know.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “Yes. She’s very upset at seeing Travis killed and didn’t hesitate to volunteer information. Now whether I believe Dave Brock is another matter.”

  “What if he stonewalls us?”

  “I think he’ll be preoccupied with other concerns. He’s a freelancer, right?”

  I thought about his white SUV parked alongside Pete Crowder’s property. Not a single word or logo on the vehicle. No emblem on his camera. In a business where call letters are blurted out every ten seconds, Dave Brock was nearly invisible. “That’s the way he introduced himself. I think Rachel got him through a crewing service.”

  “So he’s got no big network behind him. Not even a local station. When word gets out he’s thwarting a police investigation, every officer in the region will take notice. Dave Brock will be lucky to get access to the grand opening of a grocery store.”

  I kicked loose gravel against the tire. I was relieved Rachel seemed innocent, but something had gone wrong somewhere.

  Tommy Lee understood the crux of the problem. “Maybe Travis told someone.”

  “It’s wishful thinking to pin the leak on a dead man. Not when four of the six people involved are in our department.”

  Tommy Lee looked over his shoulder to the woods where the flashlight beams of Carson and Wakefield flared like lasers in the mist. “I know it’s not you. And I can’t believe it’s Carson or Shelton. Carson’s one of my most experienced deputies. Shelton’s too respectful of the chain of command.”

  “And none of us knew until Pace’s call at four-thirty. When did Brock tell her?”

  “Six-forty-five. That’s when he left a message on her phone. She was in the motel bathroom. She played it for me. Brock told her an arrest was going down at seven-thirty at Eagle Creek Church and he was north of Asheville, but he would get there as soon as he could.”

  “How’d Rachel know he got an anonymous tip?”

  “She called him while driving here. Brock said the guy didn’t say anymore than what he’d already told her.”

  I thought about the sequence of events. “Does six-forty-five leave the field wide open?”

  “None of us can alibi each other, if that’s what you mean. Any of us could have called Brock, or someone else who passed him the info. Carson and Shelton were at supper, but not together. I was in my office and you were at the funeral home.”

  “Could Reverend Pace have inadvertently tipped someone off?” I asked.

  “I doubt it. But we’ll have to ask him.”

  A pair of headlights rounded the curve of the main road. A yellow turn signal flashed and the ghostly shape of a white SUV materialized from the mist and drove into the church parking lot.

  Tommy Lee turned and yelled across the cemetery, “Carson. Wakefield. Come in on the double.” Then he sprinted to the sanctuary door. “Shelton. Get out here.” As Tommy Lee walked back, he snapped the cuffs off his belt. “It’s show time,” he whispered to me.

  Brock parked behind the Crown Vic. He killed his engine, and then hopped out the door, grabbing his camera from the passenger seat and swinging it up on his shoulder in one motion.

  “Step away from the vehicle, sir!” Tommy Lee barked the order so sharply that Brock took a step backwards. “I said away from the vehicle. Now!”

  Brock lowered the camera from his face. “I’m Dave Brock. You cleared me through.”

  Tommy Lee stepped forward. “Set the camera on the ground and put your hands on the trunk of the Crown Vic.”

  “What?” Brock looked to me. “Is he kidding?”

  “Do it!” Tommy Lee’s words echoed off the church walls.

  “The gravel’s wet. Can I put the camera on the seat?”

  “On the ground.” Tommy Lee unsnapped his holster and put his right hand on the pistol grip.

  “Okay. Okay.” Brock bent over and gently laid his camera down.

  Wakefield and Carson appeared at the front and back of the SUV. Their hands also rested on their weapons.

  Shelton stepped beside me. “What’s going on?” he whispered.

  I didn’t answer.

  “Hands on the trunk,” Tommy Lee repeated.

  Brock smacked his palms on the metal so hard the Crown Vic sounded like a drum. “You’re making a big mistake, Sheriff.”

  “Barry, cuff him.” Tommy Lee tossed me the handcuffs. “Dave Brock, you’re under arrest as a conspirator in the murder of Travis Oakley.”

  Brock’s head popped up like a jack-
in-the-box. His eyes were wide. “What? Who’s Travis Oakley?”

  “Shelton, read Mr. Brock his rights. Then escort him into the sanctuary. It’s time for a little ‘come to Jesus’ meeting.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Shelton marched Brock down the aisle with Tommy Lee, Carson, Wakefield, and me close behind. Rachel and Pace turned in their pews and watched us like we were some unholy bridal procession.

  “Mind if we use your office again?” Tommy Lee asked Pace.

  I glanced at Carson and saw his eyebrows rise. Like me, he was surprised that Tommy Lee wasn’t taking Brock into the department for questioning. Then I realized what Tommy Lee meant by show time. This was a theatrical ruse to shake loose whatever information Brock had.

  “It’s okay,” Pace said.

  Brock tried to wiggle free and step toward Rachel. “Tell them I don’t know anything,” he yelled.

  “Quiet!” Tommy Lee grabbed Brock by the wrists and yanked him so hard the man struggled to keep his balance. Tommy Lee spun him away and pushed him toward the exit. “We’ve heard her story and it’s good enough for me.” He looked at Shelton. “Take the Reverend home, but don’t go up to the Oakleys. I’ve decided I need to talk to Edna tonight. Lester, I’ll pick you up in less than an hour.”

  The old preacher bent down and gathered the pieces of his cane. He used the longest end to steady himself as he stood. “I’ll be ready. Check the lights, locks, and heat when you leave.”

  “What do you want me to do after I drop him off?” Shelton asked.

  “Run by the hospital morgue and stress in person that no information is to be released. And print the body. Then go to the department and match the prints against what we lifted from the knife. Also be ready to start fielding inquiries. Someone at the hospital’s bound to leak a death by gunshot even if they don’t give out the name.”

  Shelton looked uncertain. “What should I tell them?”

  “Say we were called to the scene and we’ll have details in the morning. Confirm there was a death under suspicious circumstances but the identity of the victim is being withheld until notification of the next of kin.”

  Shelton looked at Brock and then Rachel. “What about her?”

  “Wakefield can watch her. Now take Pace home. He’s got a long night ahead.”

  Shelton seemed reluctant to leave the action, but he hesitated only a few seconds before gently taking Pace by the arm and helping him out of the sanctuary.

  Instead of immediately steering Brock toward the office, Tommy Lee paused in the doorway. He asked Carson, “What did you and Wakefield find outside?”

  “The shooter parked a vehicle behind the thickest stand of trees. There are tracks in and out on an old logging road about thirty yards from the cemetery.”

  “Any treads worth casting?”

  Carson shook his head. “No. Ground leaves are too thick. All we found were depressions. The tire width is wider than a passenger car but not so huge as to be some jacked-up monster truck.”

  “Was he alone?”

  “As near as we can tell. No discernable shoeprints. Just depressions but they’re of uniform size and only coming from one side of the vehicle.”

  “Brass?”

  “Not so far. We were combing the area from the edge of the cemetery to the end of the tire tracks and close to finishing when you called us in.”

  “The gun sounded like a thirty-aught-six,” Tommy Lee said. “Every deer hunter in the county owns at least one. When the single shot dropped Travis, our shooter probably didn’t bother to load a new round in the chamber. The empty shell casing didn’t eject. But go back and finish sweeping the site to make sure. Barry, you come with me.”

  He pushed Brock through the door. I looked back at Rachel. She stared at the floor while Wakefield towered above her. Carson headed for the woods.

  A straight-back chair sat in the center of Pace’s small office. Tommy Lee guided Brock to it and eased him onto the edge of the seat. With his hands cuffed behind him, the videographer couldn’t comfortably lean against the back. Tommy Lee stepped to the right and nodded for me to be on the left. Brock would have to turn his head from side to side to see us.

  Beads of sweat dotted the man’s forehead and trickled into his bushy beard. Flakes of food were crusted in the hair around his lips and I imagined the mysterious phone call had pulled him from a fast-food supper.

  “I don’t know what that woman told you.” His voice jumped to a shrill whisper. “I got a call that you were arresting the killer at this church.”

  “But nobody knew except the preacher, me, and three deputies. Now it turns out you and whoever shot Travis Oakley also knew.” Tommy Lee glanced at me.

  “You own a thirty-aught-six, Dave?” I asked.

  His head whipped around. “Yeah, but I ain’t had time to go hunting in two seasons.” He gave a nervous laugh. “The barrel’s probably so clogged with dust I’d blow myself up.”

  “You think this is funny?” Tommy Lee said.

  “No. I think you’re making a terrible mistake.”

  “Then give me your cell phone,” Tommy Lee ordered.

  “Why?”

  “I want to see when you got this alleged call.”

  Brock looked at me and then back to Tommy Lee. “Don’t you need a warrant?”

  “Don’t you want to sleep in your own bed tonight?”

  Brock took a deep breath. “Well, how the hell am I supposed to hand it to you when I’m cuffed?”

  Tommy Lee bent down. “Thanks. I take that as permission to remove it myself.” He snatched the phone’s holster from Brock’s belt and flipped the instrument open.

  The keypad must have been standard enough that retrieving the call log was easy.

  “Five minutes after seven,” Tommy Lee said. “An incoming call from 202-555-1948.”

  “Rachel Clayton told me she got my voicemail and wanted to know my source.”

  “And you told her you didn’t know.” Tommy Lee kept thumbing the keypad. “Six-forty-three you called that number.”

  “And I got her voicemail, left the message, and told her I’d be here as quick as I could.”

  “Where were you?”

  “In Weaverville covering a fire. It was too close to the TV station’s air time and all their videographers were tied up editing for the newscast.”

  “Have you still got the footage?” Tommy Lee asked.

  “It’s in my camera.”

  Tommy Lee studied the phone. “Six-forty. A call marked ‘Restricted.’”

  “That’s the guy. His number was blocked and he gave no name. Just said when and where the arrest was going down.”

  “Could you hear anything in the background?”

  “No. His mouth was real close to the phone.”

  “Describe his voice.”

  “Just a guy whispering.”

  Tommy Lee shook his head. “You can do better than that. Was it young like the deputy who read you your rights? Or deep like the other deputy I sent to the woods? Or something in between like Barry’s voice?”

  Brock thought a moment. I was impressed that Tommy Lee had been setting up this voice recognition check since he called Carson and Shelton to aid in the arrest. The scheme had not only shaken Brock but also given him voice references in case any of us had placed the anonymous call.

  “No,” Brock said. “If anything it sounded older than your guys. That warble old men get, but still high pitched, almost like a cartoon character.”

  “You think you’d recognize it again?”

  “Maybe. I think I’ve heard the voice before. Just can’t place it.”

  Tommy Lee walked behind Brock’s chair. The videographer craned his neck to follow, but then gave up and stared at me. Tommy Lee unlocked the cuffs and pulled them free. “Any idea how this guy got your number?”

  Brock rubbed one wrist and then the other. “I pass my cards out to practically everyone I meet.”

  “Why do you think the ca
ller wanted you to have the story?” Tommy Lee asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve got a good reputation. I’d be there. I wouldn’t have to get approval from some assignment editor.” Brock scooted back in the chair to a more comfortable position. “Maybe it wasn’t me. He might have wanted Rachel to get the story. She’s with a national cable program.”

  Brock made a good point. Whoever called couldn’t have known about the surrender much in advance. If he wanted publicity, he’d go with the people who could react the fastest.

  “Did the caller mention Rachel?” I asked.

  “No, but everybody saw me working with her at the courthouse and at the funeral.”

  Tommy Lee patted Brock on the shoulder. “Okay. I believe you. I’m going to make an official request to your cellular company to identify that call. Maybe the guy just punched *67 to mask his ID from your reader.”

  “When can I get my phone back? That’s my livelihood, man.”

  “I’m not going to take it if you give me the number. But don’t clear out the log.”

  “What about my arrest?”

  “If you’ve got your heart set on it, I can take you in and book you. Or I can let you and Rachel do a standup in front of the church and I’ll answer a few questions on-camera.”

  Brock cocked his head. “What’s the catch?”

  “The usual. You can’t release the name of the victim until notification of next of kin. And you can’t say you received an anonymous tip. I don’t want that to become the story. You and Rachel can just tell your colleagues you’ve got a nose for news.”

  “But you made a false arrest!”

  Tommy Lee smiled. “What false arrest? I acted with the information I had at the moment. A man had been killed and you appeared with advance knowledge. Now you can go down that false arrest road and cross over to my bad side, or you can leave here with what you came for. An exclusive. It’s your choice.”

  Without hesitation, Brock stood and said, “Let me get my camera on the tripod.”

  “Give me one of your cards first. I need the number so I can tell you when you’re free to release the victim’s name.”