Secret Undertaking

by Mark de Castrique

  “Sonny wasn’t to blame,” she whispered. “It was all Toby’s idea.”

  Tommy Lee looked at Mrs. McKay’s sister. “Mrs. Overton?”

  “Yes?”

  “I need you to wait in the kitchen with Barry’s partner. It’s important that I have a talk with your sister, and some of the information might need to remain confidential.”

  “Does she need a lawyer?”

  “Not if she wants to move this whole process along so we can release Sonny to the funeral home as soon as possible.”

  “You go, Nelda,” Mrs. McKay said. “I’ll be all right.”

  I stepped over to help Nelda Overton from the sofa. The woman reached in her small clutch purse and handed her sister a lace handkerchief. “Take as long as you need, Pauline. Today, my time is your time.”

  I led the woman back to the kitchen where both Mom and Fletcher waited with a fresh pot of coffee. When I returned to the parlor, Tommy Lee sat on the sofa beside Pauline McKay. She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief, but seemed to be more composed.

  Tommy Lee gave me a nod indicating I should take the rocking chair a little farther from the sofa than the nearer chairs. Evidently, he didn’t want Mrs. McKay to feel hemmed in. She gave me a quick glance and then focused on the sheriff.

  “I don’t know who they are,” she softly said. “I swear I’d tell you. I want them to pay.”

  Tommy Lee studied the woman for a few seconds. I didn’t break the silence, knowing my role for the moment was to listen.

  “I’m not saying you know who they are,” Tommy Lee said. “However, I know you knew Rufus Taylor and I believe you know why he had your husband’s EBT card.”

  Pauline McKay took a deep breath and her frail body trembled with an involuntary shiver. “Rufus demanded it. He didn’t want us taking it to the other stores.”

  “Why would you do what he demands?”

  “We’ve been hard up for cash money, Sheriff. That’s no secret since we lost our crop last year. It hurt Toby’s pride to have to borrow money, and he couldn’t get none from any banks. My husband had been an apple grower all his life. I tended the vegetable garden and the preserving and canning. We bothered no one and no one bothered us. Then when the crop failed, we had bills to pay. Toby started buying stuff we needed through Rufus on credit.”

  “Credit’s different than cash in hand,” Tommy Lee said. “When did the arrangement change?”

  Pauline McKay’s eyes sharpened as she realized the sheriff was putting pieces together before she presented them. “When Rufus said he couldn’t give any more credit without a plan to pay it back, Toby said he’d be good for every nickel when this year’s crop came in. He already had the old pesticide and he’d only need some money to pay the migrants when picking season came. Then we had a surprise inspection by one of the wholesale buyers and they told the state Toby’d used the stuff with lead in it. We didn’t think it would hurt nobody.”

  Tommy Lee nodded. “So, Rufus Taylor offered you a way out of your financial jam?”

  The handkerchief went back to her eyes and she sniffled. “Rufus told Toby we could apply for food stamps. He had friends who would take care of the rest. Otherwise, his only choice was to put a lien on our land. Take us to court and force us to sell off property and equipment to pay our debts.”

  “Sounds like Toby’s anger would have been toward Rufus and not Commissioner James.”

  Pauline tensed. She looked over at me. “Toby weren’t scared of Commissioner James.”

  I didn’t understand. “He was scared of Rufus Taylor?”

  She shook her head. “Rufus weren’t nothing but a yes man. He admitted as much to Toby. The EBT was a cash machine. There were convenience stores we were supposed to use. Like Rufus, they’d run up charges each month for food we didn’t get and food they didn’t sell. Couple a hundred dollars’ worth. Rufus said it was reducing our debt, a debt that had been passed along to the people in cahoots with him.”

  Suddenly, Sonny’s emphasis on the word “from” in his denial that his father was getting money from Rufus made sense. His father was getting money through Rufus.

  Pauline McKay continued. “Rufus said someday, when we were paid up, they’d split the cash with us. Rufus told my husband he’d better go along because the people behind him wouldn’t take no for an answer. Otherwise they’d come after him. Rufus said they’d hurt people. Even me. Even Sonny.”

  She stopped. The room fell silent, each of us thinking about how the warning had come to pass.

  “That doesn’t explain why Rufus had Toby’s card,” Tommy Lee said.

  “Because a month ago Rufus decided he would be the one to control how and where the card was used. I guess he wanted more money running through his store. Maybe he was taking something off the top.”

  “All for a couple hundred dollars a month? That’s seems like a small amount of money to be threatening people.”

  “We weren’t the only ones falling on hard times. There’s a lot of folks on food stamps who have money problems. You get ten families, and you might have two or three thousand dollars a month. You times that across other stores and other mountain counties, then what kind of money are you talking about, Sheriff?”

  “Maybe enough to kill a man.”

  “Enough to kill my Sonny.” She gave a humorless laugh. “Rufus told Toby the debt would be paid off faster if Sonny got his own EBT card. But Sonny made too much money at the auto repair shop. Rufus said Sonny should ask to be paid for some of his hours in unreported cash so he could qualify. It would also save Harold Carson from paying as much for worker’s comp and Social Security. When Rufus suggested it, Sonny said he weren’t no welfare cheat. That really hurt Toby. Cut me, too, ’cause he was so much as calling us welfare cheats.”

  “When did you have this conversation?” Tommy Lee asked.

  “Two, maybe three weeks ago. Then it come up again Saturday morning.”

  Tommy Lee looked at me. Sonny McKay had made no mention of it during any of our interviews.

  “That’s when he came over for pancakes?” Tommy Lee asked.

  “Yes. I mentioned the parade and that the agriculture commissioner was in it. Sonny said the commissioner’s the one who should be on food stamps and not us. Sonny said it was a disgrace. That’s when Toby shoved the table against Sonny’s chest, got up, and yelled, ‘goddammit, I’m not taking any more shit off you. You’ll see I ain’t afraid for me. Not for me. You’ll see.’”

  “What did you think he meant at the time?” Tommy Lee asked.

  Pauline McKay wiped the handkerchief across her wrinkled cheek. “That he was going to confront Rufus. But I was wrong. He went for the commissioner. I guess he wasn’t afraid there’d be any danger to me or Sonny. But he was wrong.”

  Tommy Lee shifted on the sofa and for the first time flipped open his notepad. “Did Rufus ever tell Toby the names of the people he was working with?”

  “If so, he didn’t tell me.”

  “Could Toby have told Sonny?”

  “I don’t know. I think he tried to explain the bind we were in and that Rufus was only a small part of the problem.”

  “So, Sonny understood that there were people who posed a threat to you and your husband?”

  “Probably. Toby wanted him to understand why we’d been forced into doing what we’d done.”

  Tommy Lee looked at me. Her statement fit with the fear Sonny had exhibited. And Sonny must have had additional information his mother didn’t know, if he’d been willing to talk to Archie, aka Brad Pitt, about getting protection. The murder of Rufus Taylor would have confirmed for Sonny what his father had said about dangerous people. Maybe his drunken efforts to see Commissioner of Agriculture Graham James had been an attempt to tell James what Sonny later thought better of after he sobered up. Given the events, I understood how Archie’s pr
oposal for protection sounded enticing. Had Sonny’s information died with him, or had he prepared some document for when Archie came to see him? Sonny’s trailer deserved another search.

  “Mrs. McKay,” I said, “we appreciate your help at this most difficult time. Your husband and your son both deserve justice for what happened to them. We believe Sonny wanted to share information that he either got from his father or from Rufus. Do you know if Sonny had a spot where he put special papers or documents? Sort of a hiding place?”

  “What kind of papers?”

  “Oh, maybe a car title, warranty documents, or any special keepsakes?”

  “No. The trailer’s in Toby’s name. Sonny’s got the truck, so there’s a title to that somewhere. Of course, his Triumph motorcycle. There’d be a title and registration for it as well. But I have no idea where they’d be.”

  “If you think of something, no matter how trivial, please let us know.” I didn’t have any other questions.

  Tommy Lee closed his notepad without having scribbled so much as a letter. “Mrs. McKay, you’ve been staying with your sister, right?”

  “That’s right. But I’m fixing to go home today.”

  “I advise against that, ma’am. The person or the people who did this to your son are running scared. Whether Sonny knew anything or not, they didn’t take any chances. They very well could believe you pose a threat to them. Do you think it’s possible to stay with your sister a few days longer?”

  “But she lives over in Canton. She can’t be carrying me back and forth. Somebody’s got to feed the chickens and check on the house.”

  “We’ll do that,” Tommy Lee assured her. “It’s clear to me your husband was worried about your safety. He took a desperate and foolish action, but despite his mental state at the time, he knew Rufus was involved with ruthless people. If he were here, what would he want you to do?”

  Pauline sniffled and took a hard swallow. “Go with Nelda. But I’ve got a funeral...” she faltered a second…“two funerals to tend to.” She turned to me. “Both my men. Gone in a weekend. Leaving me with two funerals.” She kneaded the lace handkerchief into a ball. “I know this sounds bad, but is there a discount?”

  Chapter Ten

  Tommy Lee and I stood in the funeral home’s parking lot and watched Pauline McKay and her sister leave for Canton. The sheriff had promised that a deputy would check her house, feed the chickens daily, and if she needed to return for clothes or personal items before the funerals, he would provide an armed escort. Given the horrific circumstances that had turned her life upside down, Fletcher and I agreed to delay any service for the father and son until the following week.

  When the car had disappeared down Main Street, Tommy Lee asked, “What do you think?”

  “I think she told us what she knows. Toby got caught up in some criminal enterprise that he couldn’t control. The loss of this year’s crop was only going to push him deeper into their clutches. He was afraid to take them on and lashed out at Commissioner James.”

  “My hound dog could have come to that conclusion, Sherlock. But why was Toby afraid? Because Rufus told him his debt had been taken over by some bad people? Like a resold mortgage?”

  “Well, something must have spooked him. And then there’s Rufus taking possession of Toby’s EBT card. Was that Rufus’ initiative or the people behind him?” I thought about the few times I’d crossed paths with the store owner. “Frankly, I don’t think Rufus had the brains to organize the kind of operation Pauline McKay described.”

  “And he might not have had the brains to leave well enough alone.”

  “You mean if he was skimming?”

  “Or too loose with his new-found income. The restoration of the El Camino advertised that Rufus had suddenly been flush to pay for the work in cash.”

  “Do you think Rufus pushing for Sonny to get an EBT card was part of a plan to branch out on his own?”

  Tommy Lee scowled at me. “Now how am I supposed to know that? The man’s dead and not talking.” He gestured to the funeral home. “How many dead people in there have told you their plans?”

  “It’s just that I’m continually amazed at your deductive abilities.”

  The sheriff laughed. “Sorry. I forget how impressive I can be to those less skilled. So, maybe Rufus was skimming or setting up his own thing. But I don’t believe that’s the motive for his murder. It had to be tied to Toby’s actions at the parade. Otherwise, it’s an incredible coincidence.” Tommy Lee started for his patrol car. “Let’s get the search warrant for Rufus’ house. Maybe we’ll find he has something to say, after all.”

  It was a little after two in the afternoon when we turned into Rufus Taylor’s driveway. The house appeared to have been a small cottage that over the years had been built out haphazardly with additional rooms. The structure held the architectural integrity of a preschooler’s Lego creation.

  A van with a Winston-Salem Motors bumper decal indicated Roger Taylor was here. Tommy Lee gave a sharp rap on a warped screen door. Its torn mesh allowed easy entrance for any insect smaller than a robin. The pine inner door displayed a network of knots and cracks rivaling the most intricate spider web. Tommy Lee opened the screen door and knocked harder on the wooden one.

  “I ain’t in there.” The voice preceded Roger Taylor’s appearance around the far corner of the house. He wore a stretched tee-shirt with the faded words “Coon Dog Day 2017” stamped across the chest. The event occurred annually in nearby Saluda. His brown cotton twill work pants were fastened at the waist by a large safety pin and the extra leg length was rolled up to his ankles. The wardrobe told me Roger had run through whatever he might have quickly packed in Winston-Salem and now was making do with what he could wear of his father’s thinner, taller sizes.

  He halted, surprise squelching his irritation. “Sheriff, I was just about to call you.”

  “About what?”

  “My dad had an old Camino pickup out in the barn. Somebody’s stolen it.”

  Tommy Lee let tired springs slam the screen door shut and walked closer to Roger. “It’s at Carson’s Auto Repair. Your father was fixing it up for you.” The sheriff looked at me for corroboration.

  “That’s right. We saw it this morning. Harold’s done a nice job.”

  Roger rubbed a hand across his mouth, trying and failing to conceal the tremor in his lips. “Is that why you’re here?”

  “Yes,” Tommy Lee said. “It’s all paid for. Harold said just settle up for new plugs and points. But we’re also here to look through the house and property for any clues as to who might have killed your father.”

  Roger Taylor eyed us skeptically. “I’ve started going through his things. Nothing strange so far. I’ll let you know if something turns up.”

  “This is a police matter,” Tommy Lee said. “We need to conduct a search in a methodical way. We have a warrant, but I’d like to have your cooperation. That might serve you well later on.”

  “What do you mean?” Roger asked.

  “If we find your father was engaged in some questionable activities, it will be clear to all that you knew nothing about them.”

  Roger Taylor looked away, clearly weighing the sheriff’s words. Then he turned to face us. “I didn’t know anything about the Camino, right? You believe that was news to me, don’t you?”

  “It appeared so,” Tommy Lee agreed.

  “And I know nothing about how my father was running his business. So, you can come in and look for whatever you want.”

  We followed Roger into the front room. On the left, mismatched chairs and a threadbare sofa were set in a semi-circle around a stone fireplace. On the right stood an oval table that at one time might have been the family dining area. Now the surface was covered in boxes of assorted crackers and cookies that Rufus must have brought from his store.

  “Where do you want to start?
” Roger asked.

  “Your father’s bedroom,” Tommy Lee said.

  The interior layout of the house reflected the mishmash construction visible on the outside. We walked through an old kitchen with cracked linoleum flooring and a stained porcelain sink. The refrigerator looked like it was only one generation removed from an icebox used by my great grandparents. The first room beyond the kitchen was a den with cheap paneling and a single overstuffed recliner facing a wide-screen TV. I suspected the room might originally have been a bedroom before the other rooms were added.

  A bathroom stood to the right and on the left a door led to a bedroom. But Roger walked through that room to a second one beyond it. The odd floor plan required a pathway that meant walking through one bedroom to get to another. Both rooms had unmade beds, and I assumed Roger was sleeping in the first one rather than take over his father’s.

  “This is it,” Roger said.

  Tommy Lee stepped past him. “Fine. Wait in the doorway. You can watch but don’t interfere.”

  Roger retreated to the first bedroom. Tommy Lee slipped on latex gloves and I did the same.

  “Check the closet,” Tommy Lee said. “I’ll take the dresser drawers.”

  I pulled a string connected to a bare bulb light fixture in the closet’s ceiling and started sorting through clothes and personal items. The articles consisted of two cheap suits, one lightweight tan for summer and a charcoal gray for winter, a few dress shirts with fraying collars, and assorted jeans and sweatshirts.

  I turned all the pockets inside out but found nothing. Four pairs of shoes lay on the closet floor: one black dress pair with worn heels, one pair of hiking boots, a pair of ancient Reeboks, and a pair of green Wellingtons. I reached into the toe of each shoe and discovered with disgust where Rufus kept his dirty socks.

  Ball caps and rain hats filled a few shelves. I lifted each and found nothing underneath. The top shelf was wider, extending out over the rod holding the hanging garments. I stepped back to get a better angle on what might be up there. Rufus’ height would have made the shelf easily accessible. The corner of a gray metal box was just visible. I stood on tiptoes but the box was out of reach.