FATED TO THE PURPOSE (Richard and Morgana MacKenzie Mysteries Book 2)
Page 26
One of the accompanying agents handed me my jacket, and the other opened the passenger door to reveal none other than Kyle as the driver. “Hey Rich, what in the world did you say to these guys? Why are we going back to the inn? . . . They said we are to look for a necklace? How come I can’t talk to anyone at my office about this? Do you know that Feds still have my cell phone? Hey, do you think the Feds would give me a replacement squad car or fix my old one?”
I looked over my shoulder back to see Wagner a few feet away with her arms folded wearing an obnoxious ‘I gotcha’ grin on her, otherwise, stoic face. I felt like a lamb going to its slaughter without the comfort of being allowed to bleep.
“Rich, they wouldn’t even let me go to the snack machine. Did you know that I missed breakfast?”
Through the hail of Kyle’s questions and comments, I got into the vehicle and told my brother to drive. As we headed back to the Whyte Post Inn, I started to explain, as much as I could — as much as I thought I was permitted — about what he and I were about to do.
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CHAPTER 21
“Kyle, I can’t tell you much, and it would help me a lot if you don’t ask any questions. Let’s just say that we are going back to the inn to find an old necklace that belonged to Morgana’s great aunt.”
“That’s what the FBI agent told me when he took me aside and gave me this car. But I don’t recall Morgana making any fuss about some old necklace and why all the secrecy? Can’t you tell me anything more?”
“No, not really, Kyle.”
“I really don’t understand the urgency, and why do you need me?”
“Because, one — ” remembering that the best lies have a large dose of truth in them — “the necklace means so much to Morgana. Two — my brother, the local sheriff, has the gravitas as the chief law enforcement officer that might get me into a restricted area. And three —” I said the last reason slowly and very deliberately — “There is no one else I want to have my back, other than a member of the Tombstone Posse.” I hoped that Kyle got the reference about our childhood make-believe cowboy gang. The last time the topic of the Tombstone Posse came up was about a year ago when it was he who asked for my help on a murder case.
Kyle momentarily took his eyes off the road and looked in my direction. “Let me get this straight. You need me to watch your back as you conduct a private treasure hunt. A hunt that the FBI has sanctioned, but somehow won’t help you?”
“Yes.”
“They won’t admit to it, eh?”
“No.”
“And you want my assistance, but you can’t tell me anything more about it?”
“Pretty good, that’s it, in a nutshell. But for me to complete this ah . . . assignment, let’s say for a lack of a better word, I need your status as a local official and your protection when I’m searching for this.”
Kyle quickly glanced again in my direction. His eyes widened when he spotted, dangling in my hand, the necklace I that found in Whyte Post Inn’s cellar. He then quickly focused back on the road and said, “Oh, I see —” he paused and wrinkled his brow — “no, not really. You want my assistance on a treasure hunt for something that you already have.”
“Yes, that is just about the size of it, other than don’t let on that I already have the necklace.”
“And the FBI is okay with this?”
“Absolutely. They gave us this car for the job, didn’t they?”
Kyle drove silently with his eyes fixed on the road for several long seconds before his said, “Well, tell me what you want me to do.”
In short, I didn’t tell him much more than he knew already. I instructed Kyle that when we arrive at the inn, that he should behave as he would normally do. If he encountered any federal agents or state troopers who may be guarding the place, he should do what he would normally do to get access to the inn. Kyle said that he would do as I asked and I thanked him. I also told he that I appreciated the info about Moira that he got and smuggled to me.
“Ayuh, it’s all in a day’s work, Rich. It’s all in a day’s work — ” he smiled in self-satisfaction.
We didn’t say anything else until we were a few miles out of Bennington, when doubts started to creep into my mind again about what I volunteered to do.
“Kyle?”
“Aye.”
“You have your gun with you, right?”
My brother quickly turned his head to give me a once over. “You’re serious, aren’t you? Yes, I have my gun. I always have my gun. And I have been practicing with it for over a year. If anyone is going to harm you, he will have to get through me.“
His turn of phrase tweaked my inappropriate imagination. I started to laugh. “That would be a sight.”
“What would?”
“Somebody trying to get at me by going through you.”
It took Kyle a couple of seconds to get my drift. Then he started to chuckle. “Ayuh, if someone tried, he had better pack a lunch for a long journey.”
“It always comes down to food with you, doesn’t it Kyle?” Before he could come at me with some lame brain repartee, I added, “Thanks, Kyle. I feel a little safer that you are with me.”
He gave me a grin and a nod.
When we got about a quarter mile away from the inn, Kyle pointed ahead and remarked, “Looks like it was quite a party.” I saw several National Guard construction type trucks pulling out from the inn’s only access road. They were heading northeast on the road that we were on. When we got closer to the turnoff, we found a number of official looking vehicles and then some. I saw one state trooper car, a tow-truck with Kyle’s waterlogged patrol car hooked up to its back. And there were two unmarked, black suburban type cars, one of which quickly moved to block the driveway entrance as the National Guard trucks left.
“I image that it is time for us to play our parts,” I quipped to Kyle. My brother drove across the traffic lane, pulled up next to the state police patrol car parked along the side of the road. As we stopped, my brother and I recognized the officer behind the wheel. He was a fellow with whom I had a briefly met when I assisted Kyle on a murder case about a year ago.
“Oh, happy days, it’s Cobourne. I think we may have caught a break,” remarked Kyle as he powered-down his window to speak with a fellow officer.
“Hi, James. How’s it hanging?” warmly hailed Kyle.
“Sheriff, good to see ya. And you, Dr. MacKenzie.”
I leaned forward in my seat to get a full view of the trooper and gave him a smile and a wave of acknowledgment.
“Rumor has it, Sheriff, that you and Peterson almost drowned in your patrol car when the bridge collapsed.”
My brother had cleared his throat before he answered. “Ayuh, something like that. The deputy and I were on our way to the Whyte Post to help with its evacuation, but . . . well, let’s just say we didn’t quite get there in time.”
“As you have probably seen, they just pulled your car out of the drink. I’m no expert, but my guess is that the car is totaled.”
“Ayuh, I think you’re right. . . . Say, is there any way to get to the inn?”
“Yes, and no, Sheriff.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Guard erected a Bailey bridge section where the road gave out. So hypothetically you could just drive right up to the inn. And considering the fire and all, the inn is not in too bad of shape. Most of the destruction was smoke and water damage. Some fire damage in the lobby area I hear. Presently, the place has been declared a restricted area. No one is supposed to be there, probably because of the smell. The area smelled like a herd of skunks or tear-gas. A downwind breeze from the inn’s direction could burn your eyes at times. I don’t know what Hograve had at his place, but it sure did stink.”
“Thank you for the info, James. My brother and I have some unfinished business over there.”
“But Sheriff, the restriction applies to you too. You can’t go to the inn, either.”
“Why’s that?”
> “You aren’t allowed. The area is restricted to only authorized personnel. No one is to be allowed into the inn or on its grounds, not even you, Sheriff. Those are my orders.”
“Whose idea was that?”
“Lord only knows. Everything has been ass backward since the storm. With all that needs to be done in and around the state, my assigned duty is to assist the guys in those two black cars over there. I am to keep everyone away from the inn whom they don’t approve of. A waste of taxpayers’ money if you ask me — to have all this fuss made about poor Hograve’s. Don’t take me wrong, Hograve is an okay guy, but there are more important things to deal with in the wake of this storm. Power lines are down, highways washed out, town water systems knocked out, entire hamlets cut off from the outside word, people stranded in their cars — ”
“Ayuh, I know what you mean. I’ve been reading the reports.”
“Honestly, if it were just up to me, I’d let you and your brother go. No skin off my nose. You two aren’t going to rob the place.”
“Who are the suits?” I said, pointing at the SUV a few yards away.
“Federal agents. FBI, I think, maybe some from EPA. My guess that they are here because of that horrid stench that came from the inn. But, hey, I can’t really say. Those guys don’t tell me anything other than they want me to be their local guard dog and to keep undesirables away. I’m replaced by the next shift which will do the same until orders from upstairs say to do otherwise. But hey, as I said, I don’t have a problem with you driving up to the inn. The problem is with them,” grumbled Cobourne as he jerked his head in the direction of the black SUVs. “Speak to them.”
“Thanks, James, I think we’ll just do that.”
I waved a friendly goodbye to Trooper Cobourne and Kyle inched the car up to the black SUV that blocked the inn’s access road. As we drew closer, Kyle asked me, “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me anything more about this?”
“Nothing, other than Morgana really wants that necklace back.”
”Right . . . I don’t think that will persuade the Feds to let us by. Leave it to me.” Kyle stopped our car and powered down his side window. The driver’s window of the adjacent car did the same to reveal two men inside, one of whom I recognized from the rescue team that found me on the river bank. The unfamiliar agent was in the driver’s seat; he spoke first.
“Can we help you, Sheriff?”
“Ayuh, I hear that the road to the inn is now passable, I would like to drive up to the place and — ”
“I’m sorry, but no one is allowed there until it is deemed safe.”
“Don’t get me wrong, but who in hell are you to tell me where I can and cannot go when I’m in a middle of an investigation in my own county.”
The driver reached into his breast inside pocket and proceeded to flash his ID to Kyle. “I’m Agent Brown and next to me is Special Agent Donaldson.”
“FBI, eh,” Kyle responded with apparent suspicion in his voice. “How come I haven’t seen either of you in my office? It’s customary for the FBI agents to pay, at least, a courtesy call to the local sheriff’s office to inform me that they are conducting operations in his jurisdiction. That is unless the sheriff’s department is the focus of an FBI investigation.”
The driver looked at Kyle as if my brother was a child questioning the agent’s choice of neckties. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, there wasn’t time because of the declared state of emergency. In fact, my colleague and I had a forty-eight hour drive from Virginia to get here.”
The word ’Virginia’ struck a chord and reminded me of the governmental agency. “All the way up from Langley?” I chirped in, letting my mouth get the better of me.
“No, from the bureau’s training center at Quantico,” said the agent as he slightly leaned forward to eye me. “Whose your friend?”
“My brother, Dr. Richard MacKenzie. He is, in fact, the reason why we are going up to the inn. A very valuable Vermont artifact had been left at the inn, and I am escorting him to retrieve it.”
“I’m sorry but no one is permitted to go — ”
“Don’t give me any of your bureaucratic double talk. My brother and I were up at the inn the other day, and we were nearly killed when the spaghetti hit the fan. We know what went on up there.” Kyle was getting close in blabbering too much. I held my breath.
“But no one — ”
“Now, we don’t want any trouble. We don’t intend to make any. But if you get in the way in our attempt to locate and secure our state’s precious historical artifact, the necklace of Elizabeth Meigs — ”
“Who?”
“The first First Lady of Vermont whose necklace is a dearly valued treasure by the people of Vermont.”
“I’m sorry but the two of you can’t — ”
“If you try to stop us, Agent Brown, while this peace loving, God fearing state is going through a time of terrible tribulation and desperately needs all those icons that symbolize to her people that things will be okay . . . . If you try to stop us, there will be such a public relations mess that the two of you will have to drive to Anchorage, Alaska for your next posting. That is . . . if you ever get another posting.”
I had to hand it to my brother. He certainly sounded determined to get us to the inn, but he and I knew that what he had just told the agent was a tall order of unmitigated malarky. We just hoped that the government men didn’t know it.
As the negotiations passed from one car to the other, an odd thought crept into my mind that the little necklace, stashed in my pocket, may have had been tainted by some malefic purpose. The necklace, so innocent in its appearance, certainly had been the center of a web of lies, deceit, and yes, visitations from, do I dare say, a dead little girl. This last thought sent a shiver up my spine and had me wishing that I had never picked up the blasted thing.
Meanwhile, the dialogue between Kyle and Brown started to get heated which got me to wonder if my mission would end before it actually got started. As the tête-à-tête progressed into a conflict of wills, I observed Agent Donaldson. He didn’t participate in the discussion. Instead, he had just sat quietly with his hand to his right ear. It was when my brother yelled something about ‘states rights’ that Donaldson suddenly leaned to Agent Brown and whispered something into his companion’s ear. Brown stopped talking. He nodded several times in agreement as he listened.
“Well, Sheriff,” Brown said in a slightly more friendly tone, “you made your point. You have one hour.”
“But, we’ll need more than an — ”
“One hour, that’s it. Take it or leave it.”
“And if we take longer?” I asked from the sidelines.
“You won’t. Both of you will be in federal custody the second after your hour is up.”
“As Sheriff, you can’t — ”
“Have you ever tried to be re-elected sheriff while running your campaign from a federal detention center?”
Kyle’s face turned red.
“Thank you.That will be fine, Agent Brown,” I abruptly said, ending the pissing contest between federal and local law enforcement institutions. I needed to get to the inn as soon as possible. “At least we can look around the area and make a report,” I said, feigning gratitude the best I could. “I hope that will satisfy, to some extent, our directive from the VAC, eh . . . the Vermont Archives Commission. And perhaps, we can come around again when it is more . . . convenient for all parties involved.”
“Sounds like a plan, Dr. MacKenzie,” said Agent Brown. “The two of you have one hour.”
Brown moved his car for ours to get by, and Kyle and I were shortly on our way up the long, weather-worn road to the Whyte Post Inn.
“The nerve of that Agent Brown,” mumbled Kyle, “thinking he was going to tell me what I can and cannot do in my own county. Did you, hear what he said, Rich?”
“I did, Kyle. I was within seven feet from the both of you. But don’t you think it was odd that he let us go up to the inn at all?”
I had emerging doubts about the entire encounter, but I amused Kyle and by saying that I agreed with him. But he wouldn’t let it go.
“Rich, did you listen to how that agent talked to us?”
“Yeah, but, Kyle, you have to admit that you came across like some disgruntled, stereotypical, redneck Southern sheriff from some old movie.” An old Jackie Gleason film came to my mind.
“I kind of did, didn’t I. But that doesn’t excuse him. He is a guest in my county, and he came across as if he owned the place. Well, I did get an hour for you to do whatever it is that you are to do. By the way, what is the Vermont Archive Commission?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“You made it up?”
I affirmed with a big broad grin.
“Good one, Rich.”
“Yeah. But it wasn’t as good as your lost Vermont treasure routine.”
“Thanks, but it is all in a day’s work for me. Being an effective sheriff requires, not only knowledge of the law, but to have acute interpersonal skills, such as the ability to improvise for unplanned circumstances and to be a good listener . . .”
And so as we bounced along the storm battered road to our destination, Kyle lectured me about all the skills needed by county sheriffs. I was in no mood to listen to Kyle’s philosophy of law enforcement, but he came on this trip with me without resistance. So, I gave him the courtesy of pretending to mark what he said. As he droned on, I leaned my head against the side window, watched the passing forest and wondered about the mess I was in. And most importantly, I pondered how I would ultimately get out of it.
We were slowly crossing over the newly erected Bailey bridge when a forgotten thought popped up in my preoccupied mind, something that Mrs. Prosper planted in there before I left the medical center. Not liking the creepy feeling that was growing inside me, I stopped Kyle in mid-sentence, and I told him to close his window.
“Why?” Kyle snorted.
“Because I’m cold,” I said.