Ask Not For Whom The Panther Prowls

by Astor James Monroe

  “That's what I'm asking you. That student who was hung, Li?”

  “Yes?”

  “There were more than a few notes in his room about the dark net. They aren't to easy to read, being in a mixture of Chinese and English, but I thought if dark net was a standard term, maybe you'd know.”

  “He was in computer science, maybe one of the networking people would know.”

  “I'll ask. Thanks. Oh, before I let you go, do you know anything about Falun Gong or various religious organizations?”

  “Me? If anything I'm a pastafarian. Having a sky monkey who is able to interfere with life's events is scarier than just being meat. Why?”

  “There were a lot of papers and pamphlets about that in his rooms too.”

  “That makes sense. Not all, but a fair proportion of our Chinese students could be classed as religious refugees. I heard that a few of the local churches sponsor them when chatting with their friends at graduation. I don't know much more than that.”

  9. Argus Gets a Paying Client.

  WRAS is the student FM radio station at GSU. In the evening, after the PBS programming it carries during the day is finished, it broadcasts an eclectic mixture of music with one of the stronger signals in Atlanta. It is something of a point of pride for the university that the GSU signal is much stronger than the one from 'Tech. The evening show is especially eclectic with a mixture of jazz, rap and whatever the student DJ feels like at the moment. It provides a well-liked alternative to right-wing ranting, canned preprogrammed 'music' like Beyonce, and the various forms of religious muzak that fill the air in Atlanta. One evening, the DJ announced that he was putting on a disc of progressive funk rap jazz fusion and would be back in a moment. An hour of radio silence later, the emergency squad from Grady was summoned to the station in the basement of the student center. The DJ was found slumped in the corner. Another one of the students who had a 'heart attack'.

  The next morning I received a call from the university president.

  “OK Dr. Sharpe. This has been one too many.” It was perhaps one too public for his tastes. In my opinion there were already too many a month ago. “What does Argus need to get started on the investigation?”

  “A contract. You're going to have to pay.”

  “Fine. Damn you.”

  “That's why I have tenure. I'll have Mr. Ellis contact you to make the arrangements.”

  “I'll call him.”

  We had a bit of a race, but my autodialer beat his.

  “Will? It's 11 at night. What the hell is going on?”

  “I was just called by Dr. Pace. We have a paying client.”

  “Good, they must finally be worried.”

  “Let me know what happens when you meet him.”

  2

  In the afternoon, when I returned from campus, Laura met me at our apartment door with a determined and somewhat grim look on her face. She held out a small box, inside it was a necklace. She demanded, “What's this?”

  “A necklace, a rather nice and expensive one. Do you like it?”

  “What was it doing in your underwear drawer?”

  “I was hiding it, waiting for the right time to see if you liked it.”

  “Was it that skank's?” Laura did not have a good opinion of my dead ex-wife. It was well justified.

  “Helena's? Yes.”

  “Then why in the world do you think I'd even want to touch it, let alone wear it?”

  “I thought it would look good on you. That's all.”

  “I'm going to say this one time Will, you need to get that skank out of your life. She's dead, and as far as I can tell good riddance. You promised you'd contact an estate company to clear out that townhouse.”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you even started looking at the companies?”

  “No, not yet. I'm sorry.”

  “I'm sorry too.” She pushed me back out of the apartment. “It's your choice Will, that dead skank or me.” Then she shut the door. The deadbolt clicked as she locked it. It seemed many things were coming to an end as I stood there, speechless, unable to think of what to say to her.

  3

  I didn't have long to consider my options. I returned to my office, and was sitting dumbly by my computer, trying to summon up the nerve to call. That was the trouble, who should I call? As much as I loved Laura, there was still a part of me that hadn't closed out Helena. I suppose had that skank had a normal death, I might have had closure, but there were still too many unanswered questions. There might be a clue in the debris of our life. On the other hand, I had to move on. So what if she slept with anything that wore pants behind my back, or was planning to bolt with a crooked accountant from the university? That was over. I fired up a web browser to search for a cleaning company when the alert sounded on my celliii. It was an 'Amber alert'. A male child, six years old was missing, abducted from his school. He was driven away in a tan van, and the license plate began with the letters 'YX'. Most of these 'Amber alerts' are custody battles where one party takes the law into its own hands. I ignored it and began to look at the cleaning company adds, when my cell rang. It was Morrison.

  “Will! Did you see the Amber alert?”

  “Yes, what of it?”

  “Danny. It's Danny.”

  “Damn.”

  I immediately called Laura. Her response was short, “He is my son Will 'click',” and final. I suppose I could have walked off, but I sort of liked the kid. I called Arthur, and asked him, “Is it 'freelancing' if I chase after my stepson?”

  “Doesn't matter. You're involved as family.”

  “Morrison didn't tell me much about what's known. Did you hear anything?”

  “No, but let me ask around. Call you.”

  It only took him a few minutes. I was on my way to the car when he called back. “Will, are you sitting down?”

  “No, what is it?”

  “McHenry's escaped. Don't know for certain, but it could be him.”

  “It would fit. He's the kind of low life who would grab his boy and run.”

  “You've met him. Not me.”

  “Has Jane, his other ex, been warned? I can't talk to her because of the court case between Laura and her.”

  “I'll ask. Make sure the news gets to her.”

  “Thanks.”

  10. The Ugly Past Raises Its Head.

  The FAX, from a FEDEX store in North Lake arrived shortly after the Amber alert for Danny went out. He was holding his favorite stuffed animal, Mr. Fuzzy, and was staring at the camera with that peculiar intense wide eyed look of fear, the look that suggests he was on the wrong end of a gun barrel. The Dekalb police quickly arrived at the FEDEX store. One of the local homeless had earned a few bucks posting the FAX, but he'd already spent it on a couple of quarts of 'night train' and a bottle of 'everclear' grain alcohol. Until he sobered up there was no point in asking him to try to identify the man who sponsored his binge, and it was likely he wouldn't remember much in any case. So that lead went nowhere.

  Morrison sent Arthur and me copies of the FAX. We might not have been on speaking terms, but Laura was still my wife, and Danny was her boy. She hadn't started divorce proceedings, yet, so I guess she still had some feelings for me. It's just they were buried very deeply in a big steaming pile of not completely unjustified anger.

  Seeing Danny in the FAX, convinced me that I had to do something. He looked so scared, so vulnerable, and so alone. I called Arthur and told him I needed to pick up my firearm. Having my boss and business partner hold it, seemed the safest thing to do with it when there was a curious six year old in the house. It was just a small one, a Ruger LCP, easy to conceal, with a trigger safety. If I needed to use it, it would fire when I pulled the trigger. I'd practiced a few times at one of the local ranges and improved to where I could at least hit the barn if I fired from the inside. I had a strong suspicion that I might need to use it before the day was over.

  The FAX had one interesting detail, besides Danny. Up in the ri
ght was a small, out of focus, image that looked like it was the corner of a window. Something that resembled a blurry eastern hemlock could be seen in the window. Not much to go on, but it meant the building was in north central or northeast Georgia. Unless, of course, he was being held in an arboretum.

  I'd spent much of my free time for the last year going over Laura's ex, Tom McHenry's, assets. There was an active asset recovery case between her and McHenry's soon to be second ex-wife, and I wanted to be sure Laura received her share. He'd caused so much hurt to her that she earned something, and I wasn't going to let wife number two scoop up the lot. Classes had intervened, but I remembered that he had a 'cabin' somewhere up north of Dahlonega and west of Hiawasee. It was tucked into a corner of a national forest, left over from when the forest was formed. It couldn't be sold to anyone but the forest service, but it could stay in the family. McHenry had directly inherited it from his grandfather.

  Pulling the address from my notes and checking the area with Google earth confirmed that there was a building there, at least six months ago when they last took images. There were plenty of trees that were the right texture for Hemlocks, not that it proved anything. Given that if Danny were in the Atlanta area, the police would find him long before me, I drove out to give the place the once-over. The paved road stopped and a long, winding forest service road led to the driveway. I stopped a few hundred yards past the entrance and turned my car around. Pulling it off to the side made it look like a backpacker's or hunter's car tucked into the brush. I walked closer and cased the premises.

  It was occupied. There was a nondescript van that matched the Amber alert parked next to the building. Though, to be honest, I could have found a similar vehicle near many of the farms and vacation houses in the general area. I carefully slipped down a deer path and approached the building.

  I entered through the back door into the basement. Someone was there, playing with Danny. It was his father, Tom McHenry. We spotted each other and drew our firearms. I was faster, but only by a little. It was enough. He chuckled, set his gun on the table and stepped back with his hands up. I kept my firearm pointed at him.

  “Dr. Sharpe, I guess you win. You know I'm not scared of you.”

  “Really?”

  “I just wanted to see Danny one more time, before.” He paused, “Before they found me.”

  “They?”

  “You'll find out, soon enough. Promise me, after they find me. For Danny's and for Laura's sake, you'll put them away.”

  I paused, “I don't understand. If I can I will.”

  “You will. You're a thorough bastard, and I should have done for you when I could have. All the gold hasn't been found.”

  “What?”

  “It's all off the books and 'finder's keeper's' now. The big shots are looking for it.”

  “You know where it's hidden?”

  “Some of it. Some is in places you won't look. Enough for Danny's future.”

  “What's that mean?”

  He chuckled and dodged the question, “The thing is Will, all you'd do is put me in prison. That's why I'm not scared of you.”

  “Prison doesn't bother you?”

  “Not much. The food sucks, the quarters are uncomfortable, but the company's great, and no one is trying to kill me.”

  “What?”

  “Much nicer than dealing with deans, provosts and presidents. If you see what I mean.” He gave me an enigmatic smile.

  “Really? I don't see.”

  “You will. You really shouldn't be involved with them. The convicts are a nice bunch of guys. Maybe a bit rough, but decent folk at heart. Unlike -”

  There was a noise upstairs. Someone was opening the front door. I hear a vaguely familiar voice call, “Tom, Mr. McHenry? Are you here?”

  “Shit, shit, shit. Will, grab Danny and run.”

  I didn't quite understand him.

  “Take Danny. Run! Now!”

  I did. Picking Danny up under one arm I dashed for the door and back up the path I'd followed to my car. At least two different sets of shots rang out behind me. Danny asked when we reached the car, “Will is my Daddy OK?”

  “Danny, I don't think so.” I gave him a hug, then got him in the car and took off. “I'm sorry.” Once we were safely out on the main road I dialed 911 to report a shooting.

  11. It Happens.

  From the AJC.

  University Provost Hurt in Hunting Accident, Atlanta AP.

  Dr. Alice James, the well liked and highly respected provost for Georgia State University was seriously injured in a hunting accident near Blue Ridge Georgia yesterday. She was accidentally shot several times with a large caliber handgun. She is in serious, but stable condition in Grady hospital after being airlifted from the Blue Ridge emergency center. Police are investigating the circumstances of the accident.

  The article didn't explain what she was doing, hunting in her office clothes in the Georgia mountains.

  My cell rang in the morning and woke me up. When I looked at it, I'd missed several calls from Morrison. Last night I'd left Danny with the Goodwins and received a cold shouldered terse and minimal thank you from Laura. Since nothing seemed to matter any longer, I'd found one of my old haunts, a motel near a strip of bars and drowned my sorrows.

  In between twinges from my aching head and nauseous longings for the porcelain throne, I blearily returned his call.

  “Will?”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “I need to meet you. Where are you?”

  I thought for a moment, then recalled, “The Rainbow, it's cheap and usually bedbug free.”

  “From how you sound, you had a rough night.”

  “More like the mother and father of a hangover.”

  “I thought you'd stopped hard drinking.”

  “So had I.”

  We agreed that he would come and pick me up in an hour, which would give me time to shower off as much of the hangover as I could.

  There was a loud rapping on the door and when I opened it, Morrison came in. He took one look at me and said, “Damn Will, you need to take it easier. Don't knock back so many at once.”

  “Why?”

  “Laura isn't it?”

  “How'd you guess. She's still shirty, even after I rescued Danny.”

  He paused, then handed me some brass cartridge casings. “The state police gave me these. Next time you kill your boy's kidnapper, make sure you pick up the brass afterwards.”

  I looked at them. “These aren't mine. I'm sure I didn't fire my weapon at all.” For a private detective, using a firearm is a sign of complete incompetence. Our ideal is to escape notice and slip away unseen with the evidence.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Look they're .40 S&W. Mines a .380 auto. I'm not that good a shot and figured the extra couple rounds was worth the lower stopping power.”

  “Show me.”

  I found my holster, and pulled my Ruger LCP out of it. Dropping the magazine, I pulled back and locked the slide open to unload it completely. Handing it to Morrison, I continued,

  “See, it says on the slide, .380 auto. That's what I use.”

  He returned the gun to me. I reloaded it and counted the number of rounds as I did. “Six in the magazine, and this one in the chamber. I didn't shoot it.”

  “Not unless you added a few rounds.”

  “True, but my ammunition is locked away in Arthur's office.”

  “Damn. Who shot these?” He took the casings from me. “I guess these are evidence again.”

  “I know Tom had his enemies. Probably someone who wanted to know where the rest of the gold was buried.” I was still owed the money from my patent. GSU had allowed an embezzler to siphon it off in small amounts at a time and wasn't about to pay me my due without a court case. Never sue an institution with a law school.

  Morrison asked, “The rest of the gold?”

  “McHenry was alive when I was there, you know. He told us to run when the first visitor arriv
ed.”

  “Really?”

  “We talked. Apparently all the funds haven't been recovered. Since they've been written off as lost, he thought they were open to whoever found them. He was worried about the 'big shots'. Said they were looking for it, and for him.”

  “What?”

  “He was afraid for his life.”

  “Did he say who was threatening him?”

  “No, not directly, but he implied it had something to do with state. He said I'd find out. I don't think it's just the left-over gold from his embezzling. There isn't enough.”

  “Not very helpful, was it?”

  “No, but he would have come with me and Danny, turned himself in, when someone else came.”

  “Someone with a .40?”

  “There was a fair bit of gunfire when I ran. He told me to take Danny, to look after him and Laura.”

  “Damn Will. You pick them. Jump in without looking, don't you.”

  “Wish I did as well with the women.”

  “Will, if you don't mind some advice from an old married man.” He was my age, but still married and to the same woman, so I guess that counted as 'old married'.

  “Sure, what?”

  “Get some flowers, go apologize to Laura.”

  “But she's the one who started the argument.”

  “It doesn't matter who started it. The gentleman has to end it. Apologize.”

  “I guess.”

  Morrison continued, “Will, I'm driving you to the florists, now. Where's Laura?”

  “I don't know. Last saw her with her friends the Goodwins.”

  “We'll start there. Track her down from there. You're supposed to be good at that.”

  We pulled into the Goodwin's driveway. Their normally neat house looked oddly disordered. I went to the door, flowers in hand and rang it. Mrs. Goodwin answered. “Is Laura in?”

  She started to cry. “No. Northside. Hurry.”

  I ran back to Morrison. “She's at Northside. I think -”

  He didn't wait for me to complete my sentence, but flipped on his lights. “Buckle in Will.” We made record time. Being on good terms with the police has its advantages. People get out of your way when you can turn on a siren and flashing blue lights.