A Tisket A Casket

by Liliana Hart

  “Or we could just follow Tony to him instead. Look there,” he said, pointing behind him.

  A big yellow pickup truck with Fire Chief emblazoned in red across the side slipped out of a bay.

  “Huh,” Agatha said. “How’d you know?”

  “Gut feeling. Always listen to your gut. Unless you have food poisoning. Then it’s usually best to stay home from work that day.”

  He backed out from in front of the police department and stayed a good distance away from the yellow truck.

  “According to the GPS, the high school is just up ahead,” she said.

  “He’s not going to the school. Too obvious. He’s going to meet Chaffe where they can discuss our visit in person.”

  Agatha peered around the traffic and spotted a white SUV with red letters along the side. She assumed it was the fire marshal. Within a few yards, Tony began to break as the bright taillights flashed as strobes. He took a quick right without signaling. The two cars between them smashed on their brakes and hit the horn. Tony didn’t bother looking back as he bounced the big truck over parking lot speed humps and around the rear of the Chinese restaurant.

  “In there. Don’t get too close,” Agatha said excitedly.

  “Haven’t you been on a surveillance before?” Hank asked.

  “No. Not really.” She clapped. “I’ve been working cold cases for twenty years. Not really a lot of need for surveillance.”

  Hank followed them in the parking lot and went around to the side. All of a sudden, the yellow truck pulled out in front of them and Hank slammed on his brakes, stopping inches from the passenger side. There was a light tap on his bumper and a quick glance in the rearview mirror showed the fire marshal’s SUV had pinned them in from the back.

  Hank lifted his shirt and pulled his weapon from the holster. Agatha hit record on her phone’s video.

  “You can’t be serious,” he said, staring at her incredulously.

  “I was going to…” and then she said, “Nevermind. I was thinking of the book.”

  “Think of the book later. Let’s think about getting out of here alive for now.” He tapped the steering wheel lightly. “I knew we should’ve taken your Jeep. I’m not ramming them in this baby.”

  A voice sounded on a bullhorn behind them. “Passenger, exit the vehicle with your hands up.”

  Agatha gave him a concerned look and then did what she was instructed, backing her way toward Chafee’s car.

  “Driver,” he said. “You’re next.”

  Hank stayed where he was and was careful to move so they couldn’t see him. The last thing he wanted was to end up with a bullet in the back of his head.

  “Driver,” Chafee said again. “I am ordering you out of the vehicle.”

  Hank opened the sun roof and held his badge up. He had little patience for bullies and even less tolerance.

  “My name is Hank Davidson and I’m a special investigator, working on an active case. You are interfering in a criminal investigation.” Hank held the badge higher. “Move your unit immediately.”

  The voice came back over the bullhorn and Hank rolled his eyes.

  “I’m fire marshal, Peter Chaffe, and you’re out of your jurisdiction. It’s in your best interest to leave now.”

  “Idiots,” Hank whispered to himself, and then he said aloud, “Let me make myself very clear. I’ll have a whole swarm of cops here before you can blink, scrutinizing every move you make and going through every case you’ve ever had. Move your SUV now, or I’m getting out of this car and moving it myself.”

  “Why don’t we talk this out,” Chafee said. “Tony, why don’t you move your truck so he can get through, and then we’ll all have a chat.”

  Tony scowled at Hank, and then looked at Agatha with equal contempt, and he had to admit it put him in a much better mood. Hank pulled the car forward and in a position where they could get out easily, and he put his weapon back in his holster before getting out of the car. Agatha was waiting for him.

  They walked to the alley behind the Chinese restaurant, and Hank felt the bile rise in the back of his throat. Agatha was looking very green. He had to stay in control. These two would shoot him in the back if he wasn’t careful.

  “I appreciate you agreeing to talk to me,” Hank said. “You’re on my list of those to interview. Though I’m sure Tony told you that after he called you to tell you about our meeting.”

  “Now, just a minute here,” Tony said. “You lied to me.”

  “There’s no crime against that,” Hank said. “I needed information and you told me a whole bunch more.”

  Tony took a step forward to try and intimidate him, but Hank he stood his ground. Tony was a bully. He used his muscle to throw his weight around. But he wasn’t used to being challenged.

  “Do it,” Hank said. “A little jail time might serve you well.”

  “Now, hold on here folks,” Chafee said, his smile showing nicotine stained teeth. He held up his hands to try and dissolve the tension. “I think we just got off on the wrong foot. Tony, why don’t you run on back to the station. I know you’ve got lots of work to do. I’ll talk to these folks and then they can be on their way.”

  Chafee was a little guy, but had the posture of a banty rooster. He was several inches shorter than Agatha, so maybe about five-foot-eight, and he might have weighed a buck-fifty soaking wet. He suffered from eczema, but his ginger colored facial hair covered a lot of the dryness. His hair was sandy blonde and thinning, but he wore it long and brushed back to cover his scalp.

  He smelled overwhelmingly of cigarettes, and the scent of him was almost strong enough to cover the days old Chinese food. Almost.

  Hank smirked at Tony and knew he was all but waving a red flag in front of a bull, but Tony growled under his breath and turned and walked away. He got into his truck and sped off.

  “Ma’am,” Chafee said, looking at Agatha. “You don’t look so good. Maybe we should go across the street to the coffee shop to have this discussion. You wouldn’t want to pass out in this alley. No telling what’s on the ground.”

  Hank watched Agatha closely and saw her swallow a few times, and he knew she wouldn’t last much longer. The smell really was horrific. Worse than most of the crime scenes he’d worked. He grabbed her by the arm and steadied her, and then he hurried her toward the car.

  “We’ll meet you at the coffee shop,” Hank called out, and then he whispered to Agatha, “Please don’t throw up in my car.”

  Chapter Eight

  Sunday

  The White Rhino Coffee House had a much better atmosphere than the alley behind the Chinese restaurant. It was in the middle of a strip mall and it looked crowded with the after church crowd.

  Agatha had kept her eyes closed on the drive across the street and practiced some deep breathing exercises. Her skin was clammy, and the thought of smelling food or putting anything in her stomach wasn’t sitting well.

  “Sorry about that,” she said. “I know I probably ruined your tough guy routine.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Hank said. “It’s not a routine.”

  Chafee parked several spots down from them, and she saw him flick a half of a cigarette to the ground when he got out. She wasn’t a hundred percent yet, but she managed to get out of the car without falling over and to the door of the White Rhino. Hank held it open for her and she stepped into noise and chaos. But the smell of coffee didn’t make her want to vomit, so that was a plus.

  When Peter came in behind them it didn’t go past her notice that everyone stopped to look at him. A couple of people put cash on the table and got up to leave.

  “Hey, Pete,” a waitress said, handing them each a menu. “Let me clean off your usual table and you and your friends can sit down. Tuna salad is the special today.”

  Agatha gagged a little and Hank patted her on the back. It didn’t take long for the table to get cleaned, and they took a seat in the corner booth. Hank guided her into the seat that faced the door and then he
scooted in next to her.

  “I’ve decided to give you folks my lunch break,” Chafee said, showing his stained teeth again. “When I’ve paid my check that’s the last I want to see or hear from y’all. Am I clear?”

  “Not really,” Hank said. “You can answer our questions, or I’ll make a big scene as I arrest you for impeding our investigation. I like making big scenes. The messier the better.”

  Chafee paled and shifted in his seat. Agatha didn’t move. This was a side of Hank she hadn’t seen before. The big, scary side of Hank.

  The waitress came up and Chafee ordered the special and a cup of coffee. Agatha order hot tea to soothe her stomach, and Hank stuck with coffee.

  “How long have you and Tony known each other?” Hank asked.

  “Everybody knows everybody around here. I watched him play high school ball. He was a heck of an athlete. Played quarterback.”

  “Did he play college ball, too?” Hank asked.

  “Tony? Oh, no. He wanted to play awfully bad. Heck, we all thought he was on his way to becoming the next Roger Staubach, but the big four screwed him over. He went to a junior college in Mississippi to play ball, but he came back a month later because he was love sick. Turns out that his high school honey had met someone else while he was away. It didn’t sit well.”

  “What’s the big four?” Agatha asked. She knew the part of the story that she’d read, but she wanted to hear what they didn’t print in the papers.

  “Tony was the best quarterback this town had ever seen. They rarely lost a game. But he lost every year in the Pumpkin Bowl. No Rio Chino team before or since has ever lost four in a row. It was a black mark he couldn’t remove.”

  “How horrible for a young boy to have that much pressure placed on him,” she said, feeling sympathetic. “It’s just a game after all.”

  “No, Tony didn’t mind the pressure, but what he hated was the losing. And he could never win against Gage McCoy. Tony wound up losing everything as far as his chances at an athletic career. No one big would touch him after those four games. Didn’t matter how well he played the rest of the season. He was never as good as McCoy. Being fire chief gave him the chance to reclaim his position as hometown hero.”

  “Wow, losing a game could really cost him his career?” Agatha asked.

  “Remember Drew Bledsoe?” Hank asked.

  “Who’s Drew Bledsoe?”

  “Do you know who Tom Brady is?”

  “Him, I know,” Agatha said.

  “My point exactly,” Hank said, and then he looked at Chafee to bring him back into the conversation. “What about you? Did you really think Tony had what it took to go all the way?”

  Chafee shrugged. “I watched those games between Tony and McCoy, just like everyone else, and some kids just got what it takes. When McCoy and Tony were on the field, it’s like Tony didn’t even exist. McCoy was just that good. Any other game Tony shone like a beacon out there. But not against McCoy.

  “Tony had what it took against all the other high school quarterbacks. It made him something of a celebrity in Rio Chino. He was a superstar. If anyone could’ve put us on the map it would’ve been him.”

  Agatha could hear the resentment in his voice and she raised her brows in surprise. Tony and Peter Chafee might work together, and they might be keeping each other’s secrets, but there was no friendship there.

  “The businesses boomed those years he played. The stadium was always full. And scouts and agents were always coming in. ESPN even sent a crew in a couple of times to get footage. But each year Gage McCoy beat him, those things started to fade away.”

  “That had to be rough on Tony,” Agatha said. “For him to lose his dreams of football, go off to college, and then come home to find his girlfriend had hooked up with someone else. Most men would be pretty angry about life at that point.”

  Chafee chuckled and raised his coffee cup to be refilled. “Boy, would they. Tony was no different. He was over the moon for that girl. Followed her around like a puppy dog. Julie was gorgeous. You know when you live in a small town you sometimes have to adjust your idea of beauty because the pool is pretty shallow,” he said, winking.

  “I’m guessing that goes both ways?” Agatha asked.

  “Huh?” Chafee asked, obviously confused.

  “Nevermind. You were talking about Tony and Julie.”

  “Oh, right. I think Tony just wanted her because she was the best, and he was that kid who was always a little bit entitled. He thought she should be falling all over herself to go out with him, but Julie always had a head on her shoulders. She was smart and serious, and she had big plans to go to SMU and get her law degree. Tony tried to get a scholarship so he could go there too, but they didn’t want him to play football and he wasn’t exactly a whiz when it came to academics.

  “I don’t suppose that Julie’s new guy happened to be Gage McCoy?” Hank asked.

  “Sure was,” Chafee said. “Julie Dewey. She would’ve been better off with Tony because a decade later Gage up and killed her.”

  “What do you think set him off?” Hank asked.

  “Who knows?” Chafee said. “Divorce will make a man crazy. I been through a couple myself and I’d be lyin’ if I said I wouldn’t have been real upset if something had happened to one of my exes.

  “But McCoy never fit in here. How could he, being Beacon Hill’s golden boy? But he loved Julie and she wanted to live close to her parents.”

  “Nick Dewey is her father?” Agatha asked.

  “You know Nick?”

  “We’ve spoken with him,” Hank said vaguely. “How’d Gage get on with his father-in-law?”

  “Fine, I guess. The Dewey’s always had money, but it’s not like McCoy was broke. He just didn’t have no direction after his football career ended. As good as he was, he wasn’t good enough to go pro. So he and Julie moved back here and Gage became a cop, and they set up house right in front of Tony.”

  Hank let out a low whistle. “Talk about rubbing salt in a wound.”

  “That it was,” Chafee agreed.

  “That would give Tony Fletcher the best motive and opportunity of anyone to set Gage McCoy up for murder. You were the one who ran that investigation, weren’t you Chafee?”

  Chafee sighed and sat back in the booth, feeling for the cigarettes in his front pocket. “Tony is a good politician. He’s not a bad smoke eater, but he’s better with the people than the fire hose. And everyone remembers him from back in the day. After old Kip died, Tony seemed to move right in as a natural for the job and the council appointed him in an emergency session to take over. To say that Tony was sorry Kip dropped dead would be a lie. It’s the best thing that ever happened to him, and he didn’t bother to hide his feelings of good fortune much.”

  “Who do you report to?” Hank asked.

  “Tony,” he said. “Everything goes through Tony. If he wants it, the council and the community just roll with it, even if the budget is tight. And to answer what I think your next question is going to be, yeah, Tony’s the one who ordered me to investigate McCoy. It was so high profile he was involved in every step. He sat in on the statements of every witness and supervised all the reports I provided to the district attorney. Heck, he even came with me to the autopsy.” Peter laughed a bit. “Thought he was going to lose it once the body was uncovered.”

  Agatha could only imagine what Julie McCoy looked like once she made it to the autopsy table, and she couldn’t fault Tony for his reaction.

  “Didn't the district attorney or the police chief object to you taking over the investigation? It seems highly inappropriate that a fire marshal would conduct a felony murder investigation when it involved their department.” Hank asked.

  Chafee shrugged again and took his cigarettes out of his pocket, tapping one out. She knew they wouldn’t have much longer with him. His habit was calling him.

  “What Tony wants, Tony gets. I didn’t feel right about investigating the case, but technically I’m authorized
to do so. But the RCFD was a victim of the crime, and there were a lot of emotions during those days. I asked Tony how it could be ethical for me to investigate McCoy. But he didn’t care. I turned my reports into Tony, and then I never saw them again. He’s the one who had direct contact with the DA. Gage decided to take a plea deal instead of facing the death penalty. It seemed pretty cut and dried from there. Who would take a plea deal if they were innocent?”

  “What was your opinion?” Hank asked.

  “I honestly don’t know why he took the deal. The evidence didn’t stack up. There was no concrete proof of anything. I went to the chief of police and to the DA, but both of them told me there was no course for appeal since Gage had pled guilty. The people here needed someone to be guilty, and there was no use stirring stuff up once Gage took the deal. You’re the first person who’s asked me about it in ten years.”

  “How did Julie end up handcuffed to the bed?” Agatha asked.

  “The easy explanation is that Gage cuffed her there and set the fire. It wasn’t a sophisticated arson. He used the coffee make as a delayed starter so he could get to work. Then he attended the sergeant’s shift briefing before the blaze could be detected, giving him a room full of people to alibi him.”

  “Was that your independent conclusion?” Hank asked.

  “Yeah, it’s a classic mistake that people make when trying to be tricky. It’s a good try, but not good enough to fool anyone with any experience. I have proof of how it was done, but not necessarily who did it. I’m not sure we would’ve solved it if he hadn’t confessed. You’re always going to look at the spouse first and hardest. You know that,” he said, looking to Hank. “And maybe we could’ve made something stick, but the fact is, someone cuffed Julie to the bed, shot her in the house, and then set the house on fire. It wasn’t exactly a genius move as far as trying to cover up the scene of the crime. Honestly, I figured if someone like Gage was going to commit murder, he’d do a heck of a lot better job not getting caught. He was a sharp guy.”