STATE OF BETRAYAL: A Virgil Jones Mystery (Detective Virgil Jones Mystery Series Book 2)

by Thomas Scott

  Sandy picked up a dishrag and threw it at Murton. It hit him square in the face, but it did little to muffle his laughter, or Virgil’s.

  They all stood there laughing and Virgil could feel the relief, like a weight had been lifted from his soul and the thought crossed his mind that the people in his life had once again saved him. He was free.

  Or so he thought.

  __________

  The doc got him seated at the kitchen table and gave Virgil another exam. Then he started in with more questions.

  “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

  Still a little pissed that you kept me under for three days. “I feel pretty damn good, Doc. I guess I needed the rest, huh?”

  “You could say that. The type of strain your system has been under for the last few months is not to be taken lightly, Virgil. You’ve stressed yourself physically—not to mention emotionally—to the breaking point. That’s not an exaggeration. If you were ten years older, based on what I’ve seen, you wouldn’t have made it.”

  Virgil tried not to let his skepticism show. “Bell, that seems a little dramatic to me. I feel fine.”

  “Of course you do. Now. And if you continue to do what I say, you’ll continue to get better. But your body has to heal.”

  “Okay. I get it. I’ll keep taking the vitamins and all that.”

  Bell bit into his lower lip. “You sound sort of irritated, Virgil.”

  “Well, if I’m being honest with you, Bell, I guess I’m sort of pissed that you had me out for so long.”

  “It was the best way to control you, medically speaking. Think of it as a medical procedure, one where you had to be sedated, because that’s exactly what it was.”

  “Yeah, except you didn’t tell me ahead of time.”

  Bell reached into his bag and pulled out a clipboard with some paperwork attached and set it on the table. “Is that your signature on the bottom there?”

  Virgil refused to look at the paper. “I didn’t get a chance to read it.”

  “Did you read any of it?”

  “Yes. I started to read it, but then you were talking and Sandy…”

  Bell was still taking notes, as if the nature of their conversation was of little importance. He spoke without looking up from his notepad. “What’s the first line say right there at the top? It’s the part that’s in big bold red letters. Never mind, I’ll tell you what it says. It says ‘Read this document in its entirety before signing.’ If I’m not mistaken—and I’m not—it goes on to say that failure to read the entire document before signing does not invalidate your signature or your consent to treatment. Always read the fine print, Jonesy. The bold print too.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Fucking doctors.

  __________

  Bell put the paperwork away. “Listen, you and I, we’ve known each other a long time. You know damn good and well that anything I do to you is going to be with your best interest in mind.”

  “I know, Bell. It’s just that when I was in the hospital after…well, after I got my ass kicked, when I realized how long I’d been under, it sort of freaked me out. This kind of feels the same way. It’s almost sort of claustrophobic after the fact. Maybe it shouldn’t bother me, but it does.”

  “That’s understandable, Virgil, but hear me when I say this: You are not out of the woods yet.”

  “I thought you said this would do the trick.”

  “If by ‘this’ you mean the little nap you took and the intravenous fluids and vitamins I gave you, then no. That was just to get you over the hump. That was the part that helped you from an emotional and physiological standpoint. What I’m talking about is healing the damage you’ve done to your body. We’ve got to draw the toxins out of your liver and let your body repair itself.”

  That sounded reasonable. “Okay. How do we do that?” Sandy was standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot and Virgil could smell the aroma of fresh ground coffee. Before Bell had a chance to answer, Virgil looked at Sandy and said, “Is something wrong with our coffee maker?”

  “No, but this is the best way to do this.”

  “It sure smells good.” Virgil looked back at Bell. “I can have coffee, right?”

  “Oh yeah. You can have coffee. As a matter of fact, that’s how we’re going to get the toxins out of your liver.”

  “Hey, no argument here.” Virgil smiled. Things were suddenly looking up. “You sure won’t need me to sign a release for this part of the treatment, I can tell you that. I love coffee.”

  “Jonesy, I want you to give me your word,” he pointed his finger at Virgil as he spoke, “which I’ve never known you to break, that you’ll take this coffee as often as I tell you for as long as I tell you.”

  “Sure, Bell. That’s no problem.”

  “I mean it, Virgil. Give me your word.” He put his hand out to shake.

  Virgil grasped his hand and they shook on it. “I give you my word, Bell. Whatever you say goes.”

  “Great. Sandy, Murton? You guys heard him. You’re my witnesses.”

  Sandy and Murton both agreed with Bell, except Virgil noticed that Murton was chewing on the inside of his lip.

  “Fine. That’s just fine, then,” Bell said.

  “In fact,” Virgil said, “if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll have a cup right now. Can I get you one?”

  Murton began laughing so hard his eyes started to water.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing, Jonesy. Nothing at all. Say, I’m going to head down to the bar. Maybe I’ll see you later, okay?” He kissed Sandy on the cheek, gave Bell a pat on the shoulder and walked out the back door. Virgil thought he heard him say ‘oh boy’ under his breath.

  “Will one of you guys please tell me what’s going on here?”

  Bell looked at Sandy, then over to Virgil. “Ever heard of the Gerson Therapy?”

  __________

  “You want me to do what?”

  “It’s the only way, Virgil,” Bell said. “The toxins you’ve been putting into your body have to be drawn out. That’s what your liver does. The liver is the second largest organ in your body. Its main job is to filter the blood coming from the digestive tract before passing it to the rest of your system. In other words, it detoxifies chemicals and metabolizes drugs. You know what really fascinates me? It does so at the rate of almost fifteen-hundred liters of blood per day.”

  “Can’t I just drink the coffee?”

  Bell shook his head. “It’s not the same. It just doesn’t work that way. If you drink the coffee, by the time it goes through your stomach and the digestive process, the benefits of the chemical compounds are lost. You’ve got to get the coffee directly to the liver.”

  Virgil had heard of coffee enemas before, but had always suspected that they were the product of quackery, a deception perpetrated on the uneducated or the uninsured as a last ditch effort to maintain some semblance of health and well being. “How long would I have to do this?”

  “Twice a day, morning and night, but only for another two days,” Bell said.

  “What do you mean by another two days?”

  “You’ve had them now for three days. You know, while you were under…”

  Virgil looked at Sandy, then put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

  16

  __________

  Later in the day, after assurances to both Sandy and Bell that he would stay on his schedule, Virgil went down to the bar. Murton was seated at one of the tables and Delroy was busy rearranging things to make room for the two new juicers he’d purchased. Virgil sat down with Murton and suddenly realized, other than boredom, there was no real reason for him to be at the bar. They were fully staffed, he wasn’t on the schedule and Delroy and Robert had a handle on the day-to-day operations. For the first time in his adult life, Virgil felt like he didn’t quite belong…anywhere.

  “I’m not really sure what I should be doing,” he told Murton. “I mean, this is my bar, but it has alw
ays been sort of a backup plan for me. You know, something to do when I’m retired.”

  “Aren’t you retired now?” Murton asked.

  “Yeah. Aren’t you?”

  Murton kept glancing at the clock behind the bar. “You know what I think you should do?”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “I think you should go into business with me. I could use a partner and you’re the best investigator I’ve ever met. We’d be unstoppable.”

  Virgil tried to keep his face neutral. “Ah, Murt. I don’t know…”

  “No, no, just think about it for a second, will you? Here’s the way I see it.” He started ticking points off on his fingers. “One, we know everything there is to know about each other, so in that regard, we’d work well together. Hell, we already are working together right here at the bar. Two, if you were to examine the situation, you’d find that you are in the unfortunate position of what most anyone at all would refer to as limited employment opportunities. Three, I don’t have a drug policy…”

  “Hey...”

  “Relax, Jonesy, I’m just fucking with you. I actually do have a drug policy. Anyway, four, a P.I. badge is bigger and shinier than that little state badge you used to carry around. So what do you say? Wheeler and Jones Investigations. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t think so, Murt. Thanks just the same, but I think I’ll take a pass.”

  “What? How can you turn down an offer like that? We’d have this city cleaned up in no time.” He was serious.

  “Oh yeah? How exactly would that work? Hold on, let me guess. We sit around here and wait for clients to walk through the door who want to hire a couple of bartenders?”

  He wagged his finger back and forth. “Wrong. Not bartenders. Bar owners. Bar owners who used to be cops. We’d have them lined up and waiting.”

  Virgil chuckled for a few seconds. “Let me ask you this, how many clients do you have lined up and waiting?”

  Murton sort of shrugged. “Hell Jonesy, I’m just getting started. But once the word gets out we’ll have to beat them back with a stick.”

  “How many?” he asked again.

  “You mean right now, at this very moment?”

  “Yes, I mean right now, Murt, at this very moment.”

  Murton did two things just then. He pushed one of the chairs out from under the table with his leg, then picked up his mug of coffee and blew the steam away from the top of the cup. As he did, an attractive young woman walked up to their table and sat down in the chair. She addressed her question to Murton, who to his credit—or perhaps his salesmanship—never took his eyes off of Virgil.

  “Are you Murton Wheeler?” the young lady asked. “That nice Jamaican man behind the bar said you were. My name is Nichole Pope. I need your help.”

  Virgil looked at Nichole Pope, the grown daughter of the man he’d shot and killed over twenty years ago, then looked back at Murton. “Are there benefits?”

  “Nope. And the pay sucks too. In fact, after expenses there probably won’t be anything left over at all.”

  “Then I’ll take it.” Virgil looked at Nichole Pope then pointed across the table. “He’s Murton Wheeler. I’m his partner. How may we help you, young lady?”

  __________

  Hendricks County is home to the Indiana Law Enforcement Academy, where Sandy works. Over the years as a state cop, first as a trooper, then an investigator, Virgil had built up any number of relationships with different county sheriffs and patrol officers, particularly the ones close to Indy. Nichole Pope hadn’t even answered his question when Virgil noticed Hendricks County Sheriff Jerry Powell walk into the bar. He was in uniform, so Virgil knew right away he was not there to eat or drink. “Excuse me for just a moment,” Virgil said to Murton and Nichole. He walked away from the table and met Sheriff Powell in the middle of the room. “Jerry, what is it? Is Sandy okay?”

  The Powell looked at him in confusion before he put it together. “Ah, Jesus, Jonesy, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I should have called first. Sandy’s fine. Haven’t seen her in quite some time, now that you mention it. How’s she doing, anyway? Hey no disrespect, but if I were twenty years younger…”

  Virgil exhaled noticeably. “Come on, Jerry, have a seat at the bar with me for a minute.”

  Powell slid onto a barstool, his gun belt squeaking in protest as he did. He removed his Smokey the Bear hat, set it crown down on the bar top, looked at Virgil and said, “You okay? You look sort of pale.”

  “No, I’m fine,” Virgil said, frowning at the contradiction of his own statement. “What’s up?”

  “I was going to call you at your office and put in an official request…”

  “A request for what?”

  “Got a little arson problem. Different spots, but we’re mostly getting hit in Plainfield and Danville. Was sort of hoping you could take a peek and see what you could see.”

  Virgil watched in the mirror behind the bar as Nichole Pope stood from her seat and made her way to the restroom. He turned his attention back to the sheriff. “What’s the state’s arson inspector say?”

  Sheriff Powell dropped his eyelids a fraction. “He says its arson.”

  “Sounds like he knows what he’s talking about then.”

  “Oh come on, Jonesy. You know those guys don’t do anything except determine cause and half the damned time they’re wrong about that. They all think they’re Quincy or something but the truth of it is, they come in, sniff a few wires, cut a deal with the insurance company and call it a day. I need someone who can find these punks and put a stop to it.”

  “Quincy? Jesus, Jerry, how old are you?”

  “Still young enough to kick your butt.”

  “Hmm. You may be right about that. Look, Jerry, maybe you haven’t heard, but the thing is—”

  Powell’s laugh cut him short. “Maybe I haven’t heard? You’re kidding right? Half the criminals in the state are celebrating as we speak. I said I was going to call you at your office, but I knew you wouldn’t be there. That’s why I drove down. The county wants to hire you and Wheeler to catch these guys. Word is, you two have started your own shop. A retired fed and an ex-state investigator? When it comes to getting new clients you guys will be beating them back with a stick. I figured I better get you while the gettin’s good.” He put out his hand to shake. “If you can come over to my office tomorrow you can review the files and we’ll work out the details and budget and so on and so forth. What do you say?”

  Virgil shook his hand, but said, “Let me call you in the morning, if that’s okay.”

  He nodded, picked up his hat and stood from his seat. “Fair enough. My best to Sandy. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  He started to walk away, but before he got too far, Virgil said, “Hey, Jerry?”

  He turned back. “Yeah?”

  “Which half?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said half the criminals in the state are celebrating. Which half?”

  The sheriff set his hat squarely on his head and checked its placement in the bar mirror before he answered. “The smart ones,” he said to his own reflection. “I’ll be expecting your call, Jonesy.”

  When Virgil turned around, Murton was staring at him, the grin on his face as wide as ever.

  __________

  Nichole Pope told them about her brother, Nicky and how the police had, in her opinion, all but given up on catching his killer. “I don’t know if it’s because they don’t have a body, or if it’s because they don’t have any evidence, or if it’s something else entirely. But I do know this, they’ve made exactly no progress and I’m tired of waiting.”

  “There’s something you should know, Ms. Pope, before we go any further,” Virgil said. He never got a chance to finish.

  “I know who you are, Detective. It was a long time ago. You didn’t kill my father. He got himself killed. The choices he made…I’m speaking of the choices in that moment…they were his own.
He got a raw deal out of life and it ended badly, but the responsibility was on him. I don’t see how anyone, especially you, Detective, could possibly see it any differently.”

  “Still, I’d like to apologize for what happened. And it’s not ‘detective’ anymore. I’m no longer with the state police.”

  Virgil’s revelation didn’t seem to surprise her. “I accept your apology and with your permission we’ll not speak of the incident again.”

  Virgil knew full well the reason he was alive today was because of the sacrifice Sandy’s father had made on his behalf. The costs associated with Chief Small’s actions were enormous, not only for him, but for Sandy as well. Because of Virgil, Sandy grew up without a father.

  Though Virgil had always done his best to rationalize that the death of James Pope was not his fault, the fact remained that he was the one who pulled the trigger. Could he have responded differently to that call? He just didn’t know. Further, he didn’t know if anyone else would have either. Fate played a major role in the events of that day. Had Virgil been closer when the call came in it stood to reason that he would have gotten there sooner and prevented the escalation of events, thus saving Pope instead of killing him. Virgil did know however that the burden he carried over the death of Sandy’s father was one that would remain with him forever. Was it not then reasonable to assume that the death of James Pope by Virgil’s own hand could have been a portent of things yet to come? Were the consequences he would have to face as a result of his own actions some sort of destiny? He simply didn’t know. “I took your father from you. You grew up…”

  “Detective…I’m sorry, Mr. Jones…”

  “Please, just call me Jonesy.”

  “Very well then. Jonesy.” She reached across the table and placed her hand on top of his and Virgil could feel a slight tremble in her touch. “His path was set the minute he got together with my mother. They just weren’t right for each other. She drove him crazy and I’m sure he did the same to her. They were wrong for each other and I’ll tell you what else, they were wrong for us. My struggle for all these years has been to try to balance the fact that I am both of them together. I am half my mom and half my dad. I am in fact, the sum of two parts that never quite fit together. My parents weren’t bad people, they were just bad together. Do you know what that kind of thing does to your emotional state, especially as a young child?”