The Truth Will Drop: Carter Peterson Mystery Series Book 5

by Al Boudreau

  “Oh yeah, that’s right. Thanks for that.”

  She grabbed my hand, gave it a squeeze, and led us toward the house. “C’mon, Carter. I said I was sorry.”

  “Yep. Anything I might say right now should not be taken seriously. My brain is mush.”

  “That’s fair,” Sarah said. “Let’s get you some sleep. You’ll feel a whole lot better in the morning.”

  * * *

  My nose started working before my eyes did, the aroma of morning coffee filling the air as I peeled the covers back and got out of bed.

  I smelled bacon once I got to my feet. Sarah was making us a home-cooked breakfast---likely a peace offering to make up for my forced entry into the marijuana smoker’s club last night.

  I wasn’t complaining. I was famished.

  I threw some clothes on and headed downstairs, eager to hear the details of her conversation with Keef Hall.

  “Good morning,” Sarah said as I took a seat at the kitchen table. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Slept good. I needed it.”

  “Ready for some breakfast?” she asked while pouring our coffee.

  “Always.” I sat back and watched Sarah plate our food as my thoughts drifted back to last night. “Come tell me a story.”

  Sarah brought our full plates over then sat. “What a night. I didn’t think I was ever going to get out of The Ferry Landing.”

  “Hall play hard to get?” I asked.

  Sarah took a few bites of her breakfast as she shook her head. “Not at all. He was easy, once I was able to shake off the human leach. Some jackass spotted me as soon as I walked in, and began hitting on me before I could even order a drink. Actually, it was Hall who saved me.”

  “How?”

  “The leach guy wouldn’t leave me alone. No matter what I did, he followed me. Hall and Wally were playing pool, so I went over next to their table … and made a bit of a scene.”

  “Huh. Good call. So, how’d you get Hall talking if he was playing pool?”

  “Charm,” Sarah responded, her tone matter-of-fact. “Hall and Wally were so busy paying attention to me, the guys waiting for the pool table got pissed. Hall decided he was having a better time talking to me than playing pool, so we grabbed a table. When Wally got up to go to the bathroom, I hit Hall up for the joint.”

  I nodded and ate a few bites. “I take it our plan worked, then?”

  “Your plan. Uh-huh, it was almost textbook. Except the part with me smoking. I … I lost my nerve. No doubt in my mind I would have blown it, so I told him I needed to find a joint for my partner’s birthday.”

  “That’s fine. It all worked out. The important part is the information we went there for. What do we know?”

  Sarah smiled. “A lot. So, like I told you last night, turns out the guy Everett Shapleigh saw Hall talking to is actually Hall’s brother-in-law. He goes by Bones, but his real name is Dale. I didn’t push and ask for his last name. I figured we could find that out on our own.”

  I nodded and took a sip of coffee. “Good call. I think I remember you telling me you got something out of Hall explaining milk run. Or, did I just dream that part?”

  Sarah giggled. “You didn’t dream it. Care to guess who Dale used to work for?”

  “Well, out of the two obvious choices, I’ll have to go with Moray Towing.”

  “Right. Get this. Hall told me that Moray fired this Dale dude for theft of property. The serious kind. Class A felony.

  “Whoa. He must have served some real time for that little lapse in judgement,” I said.

  Sarah shook her head. “Nope. Not a day. Moray never pressed charges. They cut a deal. Made Dale sign a gag order, stipulating he’d never reveal what he took in exchange for his freedom.”

  I was dumbfounded. “Please tell me there’s more.”

  “Oh, yeah, there’s more. Hall claims Dale has never offered specifics about what he stole. But, that same night last August, when they were both fall-down drunk and stoned out of their minds, Dale let it slip that he’d had brief access to what he referred to as Moray’s milk run crate. Apparently, whatever it was he made off with came from there.”

  I pushed back from the table. “Be right back. I need to start getting this information down in my notebook.”

  I bounded upstairs, two steps at a time, energized by our good fortune. The best laid plans didn’t always work out when it came to searching for clues, but my original idea to troll The Ferry Landing was now paying dividends.

  Nice to put a check mark in the win column every now and then.

  I returned to the kitchen with my notebook. “Give me a second to catch up before you tell me the rest,” I said to Sarah as she sipped her coffee. I proceeded to write down everything she’d shared. My chicken scratch was less legible than usual, but I wasn’t about to slow down for penmanship purposes---I needed to hear the rest of the story. “OK. All set.”

  “Hall was pretty forthcoming with all the information I’ve shared so far, but I kinda had to drag this next bit out of him. Oh, I forgot to tell you this part. When I first mentioned milk run, he looked at me like I had three heads and immediately lowered his voice. He said he couldn’t believe Dale trusted me enough to tell me about it. In fact, he asked if I was sleeping with him.”

  “Really? Sounds like we may be getting close to some damning evidence.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows and let go a heavy sigh. “No doubt. Moray threatened Dale with a Viking funeral if he shared that information with anyone.”

  “Not sure what that means,” I said.

  “I didn’t either---until I looked it up this morning. I found a couple different definitions, but the most modern one, used as a threat, involves tying someone up, putting them in a small boat, and setting it on fire.”

  “Whoa. That’s harsh. So, tell me. What’s this information Hall was so reluctant to share?”

  “Well, from what I could gather, Dale never came right out and admitted this, but Hall is convinced those crates are used for smuggling, and the term milk run is Moray’s code for letting insiders know when a shipment is coming in.”

  I dropped my pen on the table and sat back, blown away by the implications. “Did Hall tell you why he believes such an operation exists?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I’m guessing Dale has shared more information with Hall than he was willing to admit to last night. I wanted to push for more details, but I think it would have spooked him.”

  I held my hands up out in front of Sarah. “No problem. You made a good call, there. In fact, the information you were able to get is way more than I could have hoped for. Excellent work.”

  Sarah gave me a weak smile. “Thank you. It was challenging, and a little scary.” Sarah paused for a beat and her smile grew wide. You know … I loved every second of it.”

  I finished taking notes, then got up and got busy with the morning dishes. “You probably already told me this, but I’m a little out of it right now. When you went to the mall to drop off the Frenchie Taylor video, did they give you any idea of when the enhanced copy would be ready?”

  Sarah nodded. “Today’s Monday, right? They told me I could pick it up this morning. I’ll give them a call after I get dressed. If it’s finished, I’ll go grab it.”

  “Good. I’m going to do a little research online while you’re gone. We’re on a roll. I want to keep our momentum going, and see if I can figure out this Dale guy’s last name. Looks like he could be the key to cracking this investigation wide open.”

  Chapter 23

  Sarah popped her head into my office as I scrolled through Keef Hall’s social media posts. “Video’s ready to be picked up. I’m on my way over there.”

  “Great. Coming right back with it?”

  “I can if you’d like me to.”

  “Yep. I’m eager to see if we can identify that boat. The sooner, the better.”

  “I’m on it.”

  I gave her a quick wave and got back to viewing the rough and
tumble lifestyle of our latest contact. Hall’s pictures and comments were nothing, if not entertaining. He was the epitome of a Good Time Charlie, giving the impression he had no purpose in life other than to find the next party---even if he ended up being the only one there.

  The person I was hoping to find in and amongst Hall’s records of mayhem proved a bit more elusive. Maybe Dale, aka Bones, was more the responsible type, his carousing with Hall limited to a once-in-a-while thing. Everett Shapleigh had even mentioned he’d seen this Dale character just the one time at The Ferry Landing, shortly after Frenchie Taylor’s death.

  I scrolled all the way through the past four years of Hall’s debauchery---twice---and found no reference to anyone named Dale or Bones. I sat back and rubbed my weary eyes, hoping the red-hot trail we’d picked up wasn’t about to go cold.

  I closed my eyes and thought about how I might approach the search from a different angle. We knew Dale was Hall’s brother-in-law, so the next logical step would be to figure out who Hall’s sister was.

  Find her, find Dale.

  I went back to Hall’s most recent post and began scrolling again, my focus now on only those photos that included women---of which there were many.

  Hall seemed to love the ladies, which made this search move much more slowly than the last. Every time I saw a new female face I got a tinge of hope she could be the one. Many shots were quick and easy to rule out, Hall bragging on his captured companions as new party friends, conquests, and the like. Others pics were more tedious to rule out, with little attached commentary to go on. A handful had no text at all, simply snapshots folks had chosen to scroll right past.

  Twenty minutes had gone by when I started getting antsy, photo after photo giving me nothing but a headache.

  I slid my chair back and made my way to the kitchen for some water and a couple of aspirin. I downed the medicine then began pacing. What was I missing? I should have had some sort of hit by now. Were Hall and his sister estranged? Had Dale and his wife split years ago, before the masses were on social media sharing every last detail about their lives? Either scenario could be reason enough to explain why Dale and Hall didn’t seem to spend a great deal of time with one another.

  I dragged myself back to my office and sat down in front of the photograph I’d left off with: an image, posted four years ago, of a much younger Keef Hall standing with a group of six other individuals. I read the words attached to the post: The gang hanging out before the show #tbt.

  I’d spent enough time on social media sites to know #tbt stood for Throwback Thursday, a hashtag used to post photos captured from an individual’s past. Someone, somewhere along the line, had decided Thursday would be a good day of the week to do such a thing. Somehow it stuck.

  I was guessing Hall was about 20 years old in this particular photo, but it wasn’t his age that caught my eye: it was the bearded face of the guy next to him, along with the young woman this individual had his arm around.

  The beard belonged to Dale, while the woman looked an awful lot like Hall.

  Enough so that she could be his sister.

  Maybe I hadn’t gone deep enough. I changed my search method and scrolled all the way back to the beginning, the year Keef Hall signed up for his social media accounts: 2007.

  I took it slow, using the assumption that the young woman in the photo was indeed Hall’s sister. Process of elimination would help speed the process. The frequency of Hall’s posts were less back then, a few images a week showing up versus his present rate of several per day.

  I watched the heading on his social media account change to 2008, with no sign of Dale, and no sign of the woman I believed to be Hall’s sister. I periodically checked the dates as I went along, with January, February, and March of 2008 now covered.

  April delivered the payoff.

  Picture after picture showed Mr. Dale Robie and his new bride Amanda Hall Robie at their wedding, looking as happy as newlyweds could be. Dale had taken the initiative to shave his facial hair, probably at the coaxing of the beautiful woman who’d vowed to become his wife.

  Now armed with Dale’s last name, I didn’t want to spend much more time on Hall’s posts---but decided to scroll for a few more minutes.

  One year and one month’s worth of posts later I found the answer to why I hadn’t discovered Hall’s sister in my previous searches. And, why Dale Robie and Keef Hall had drifted apart: Amanda Robie had lost her life to a drunk driver in May of 2009.

  I sat back and closed my eyes, struck by the sadness of it all. I didn’t know either of these individuals, personally, but couldn’t help but wonder if the tragic loss of this young woman had contributed to the downward spiral the men’s lives seemed to have fallen into.

  I cleared the computer screen and headed to the kitchen. It wasn’t quite lunchtime yet. I’d made no formal plans to leave the house today. I opened the cabinet, pulled out a brand new bottle of scotch, and peeled back the seal. I grabbed the glass closest to where I was standing and gave myself a heavy pour.

  I put the glass to my lips and tipped it back just as Sarah returned from the mall. She opened her mouth to greet me, but noticed the open bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. She turned toward the wall clock.

  “I know,” I said. “It’s not even noon.”

  She put her bags down on the table and walked over to me. “What’s going on? Everything all right?”

  “I was able to figure out Hall’s brother-in-law’s last name,” I said.

  “That’s great,” Sarah said, her expression not in agreement with her words. “But, I’ve only seen you hit the hard stuff this early a few times. You’re not celebrating.”

  I began explaining the entire backstory to her and watched her take a seat when I got to the part about Hall’s sister. This kind of news always tugged at Sarah’s heartstrings.

  “That’s tragic,” Sarah said. “Those poor guys. No wonder they’ve both been in trouble.”

  “Yep. I thought the same exact thing when I found out. Not that it’s an excuse for breaking the law, but an untimely loss can sure send a person’s world into a tailspin.”

  Sarah stood up and turned to give me a hug. I’d shared intimate details with her about the loss of my daughter to a drug overdose, so she knew why I took discoveries like this one to heart. “C’mon. Come sit down. Let me give you a little shoulder massage.”

  I did as she instructed, her soothing fingers always a welcome addition to my day. “I just found out right before you got back,” I said. “I haven’t plugged Dale Robie’s name into a search, yet.”

  “That’s his last name? Robie?”

  “Oh, sorry. Yep. It’ll be interesting to see if he lives around here, what he’s been up to since he was let go from Moray’s outfit … you know, all of the details about the guy’s life.”

  “Definitely,” Sarah said. “Hey, I have an idea. Take a little time, put your feet up, and relax a bit. I’d be happy to spend some time running his name. You’ve already busted your hump with the hard part.”

  I shook my head. “Nah. Don’t get me wrong, Sarah, I appreciate the offer. It’s just … well, I’m better off staying busy. If I sit around, doing nothing, I’ll just get depressed. But, thanks for the backrub. That kind of stress relief is welcome, anytime.”

  “No worries,” Sarah said. “And, you’re welcome.”

  “I figured you’d understand. We’re finally making some real progress with this case, so I want to keep pushing.”

  “Me, too. Tell you what. If you want to keep going with your Dale search, I can work on trying to figure out who shot Frenchie’s video footage. I’ll watch the enhanced version, then do a side by side with what we shot over the weekend. Now that we have our own footage of that Homeland boat, maybe we can make a solid case for yea or nay. Sure would be helpful to know whether or not that footage came from a government vessel.”

  “Yep. I like it.” I put my whiskey away and rinsed out the glass. Sarah’s enthusiasm and mag
ic fingers had inspired me to get back on track.

  I returned to my office, got myself situated, and typed Dale Robie’s name into the search bar. As expected, a slew of links appeared on my screen. I took a quick look at the entire page before deciding to check out what our local newspapers had reported, concerning Robie’s alleged crime.

  I clicked on the first link and got nothing but an error message. So, I clicked the link to an article from a different paper. The page you’re looking for no longer exists. I clicked a third. This article has been removed for undisclosed reasons.

  That was the moment I realized Moray Towing wielded some serious power. Getting an article retracted from one newspaper was not only difficult, but expensive. Getting retractions from all the papers? That kind of clout was reserved for government officials and titans of industry.

  “Sarah?”

  “Be right there.”

  I went ahead and brought up Robie’s social media pages while I waited for her to come in. Compared to Keef Hall, this guy kept his affairs close to the vest, posting no more than once a week.

  “Whatcha got?”

  “When you’re finished going over those videos, I’d like you to find out as much as you can about Moray Towing, please. I’m not talking public websites. I need you to dig.”

  “Want to tell me what this is about?” she asked as she stood beside my desk.

  “Sure. Moray managed to get every newspaper that published a report about Dale Hall’s alleged criminal activity to retract and remove their respective articles from the internet.”

  Sarah went over to the couch and sat. “Are you serious?”

  I nodded.

  “Wow. I thought that took, like, an act of Congress to get done.”

  “That’s why I want to learn all we can about Moray.”

  “That scares me a little, Carter. Maybe we’re messing around with the wrong people.”

  “Aren’t we always?” I could tell by Sarah’s face she wasn’t impressed with my sarcasm. “Look, all I’m saying is let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Knowledge is power. Please … let’s see what we can find out before you get too worked up, OK?”