by Scott Pratt
The cryptic nature of Lipscomb’s answers, coupled with the stranger in the back seat, deepened Pinzon’s anxiety. Lipscomb’s behavior had become increasingly erratic over the past three years. He’d gained more than forty pounds since their freshman year at Harvard, and he spent more time in clubs than in the classroom, having developed a seemingly insatiable appetite for female companionship, especially blonde-headed females. After the Mallory Vines incident, Pinzon had been unable to sleep in their apartment and had moved into a studio flat on Newbury Street. The image of Mallory’s lifeless face lying on Lipscomb’s bed haunted Pinzon nearly as much as the cavalier manner in which Lipscomb had disposed of her body. Lipscomb had dressed her, and the two of them had draped her arms around their shoulders and taken her down to Lipscomb’s car as though she were passed out from drinking. Pinzon’s involvement ended there, but Lipscomb later told him that he’d taken Mallory to the stash house they were renting at the time. He enlisted some help, he said, to cut her body and load it into a cooler which was subsequently loaded onto Lipscomb’s plane. Mallory’s body was dropped – in pieces – out the windows of the plane into the Atlantic Ocean a hundred miles off the coast of Maine. They’d never heard another word about Mallory Vines. Pinzon wondered if the “help” Lipscomb had enlisted was sitting in the back seat now.
“That’s got to be him,” Lipscomb said as he pulled up to the curb outside the United Airlines terminal at Logan. A tall, slim young man wearing a fringed, buckskin jacket, blue jeans, and cowboy boots was leaning against the building smoking a cigarette. Lipscomb threw the Mercedes into park and got out. Pinzon watched as Lipscomb approached the cowboy. They talked for a minute and the cowboy followed Lipscomb back to the car. He climbed in behind Pinzon.
“This is my man, Tex,” Lipscomb said as he pulled out into traffic. “He flew all the way up here from Dallas just to meet us and take care of a little business. Tex, this is my friend and partner Andres and the gentleman sitting next you there is my buddy Santiago.”
Pinzon turned and nodded at Tex, wondering what Lipscomb was up to. The only time Lipscomb did business face-to-face was in Colombia. Everything else was done strictly by phone and by mail. It had been that way for three years. They’d stashed almost twenty million dollars without drawing any attention to themselves, and with the exception of Mallory Vines, everything had gone smoothly. Pinzon glanced at Tex, who had curly, dark brown hair, a rugged-looking face with deep dimples in his cheeks and grayish eyes that were darting around nervously. Pinzon wondered whether he held the key to some huge, untapped market in Texas that Lipscomb was interested in.
They drove in silence for forty minutes north along I-95 toward the Rhode Island state line. Lipscomb exited the interstate and turned east toward the ocean. A couple of minutes later, he turned left onto a gravel road.
“This is my newest place,” he said over his shoulder. “You’re gonna love it.”
A half-mile down the gravel road, Lipscomb pulled up to a locked metal gate.
“Here,” he said to Pinzon, holding out a key. “Lock it back after I drive through.”
Pinzon unlocked the padlock and removed the thick chain that secured the gate. As soon as Lipscomb pulled the Mercedes in, Pinzon replaced the chain and the lock and got back into the car.
“Can’t be too careful,” Lipscomb said, winking at Tex.
They drove a couple of hundred yards along a dirt driveway through a stand of tall pines. In a clearing beyond the pines was an old, white farm house flanked by a dilapidated barn. Lipscomb pulled the Mercedes around to the back, got out, and said, “Come on, we can talk inside.”
Pinzon opened his door and climbed out, but Tex, who had been silent since they left the city, didn’t move.
“I think I’ll just wait out here,” Tex said.
“Look, you said you need more product so you can catch up,” Lipscomb said. “This is where I’m keeping it. Come on inside. It’ll just take a minute.”
“You can just bring it out to me.”
“Santiago, would you please convince Tex that it’d be in his best interest to come inside?” Lipscomb said.
Pinzon watched as El Maligno, who had stayed in the back seat next to Tex, reached beneath his left arm and pulled out a long-barreled revolver.
“Get out of the car,” he demanded, and Tex opened the door.
Lipscomb led the way as the four of them walked in through the back of the house. The paint on the outside was cracked and peeling and most of the windows were broken out.
“It’s a bit of a fixer-upper,” Lipscomb said as he led the way through a run-down kitchen and into what was probably once a dining room. Pinzon could feel his knees shaking as he listened to the breeze whistle through the windows. He looked around and noticed that the floor of the room they were now standing in had been covered with a thick sheet of plastic. One rickety chair sat in the center.
“Have a seat,” Lipscomb said to Tex.
“What are you doing, John?” Pinzon said.
“I’m about to teach this gentleman some manners.”
“I don’t want any part of it,” Pinzon said. He turned and took a step back.
“Stop right there!” Lipscomb roared.
Pinzon froze. He’d never before heard that tone of voice from Lipscomb. He turned to face his friend.
“You know something, amigo?” Lipscomb said. “I’m beginning to question your commitment. The only thing you do with the business these days is ride down to Colombia with me. You don’t sort, you don’t package, you don’t ship, you don’t deal with the customers, you don’t handle the money. And now you want to walk out on me in the middle of a meeting. If it wasn’t for your connection with Eduardo, I wouldn’t need you at all anymore.”
“You’re crazy, do you know that?” Pinzon said. “What is it, the money? Do you think you have power now? Do you think can just do whatever you want with no consequences? We got into this business to make money, not to hurt people.”
“Who said anything about hurting anyone?” Lipscomb said. “We’re just going to have a discussion.”
By this time, Tex was sitting in the chair with El Maligno standing a few feet away, the gun pointed at Tex’s forehead. Pinzon looked down at Tex and felt pity. A dark spot had formed on Tex’s jeans between his legs and he’d started to cry.
As Lipscomb’s girth had widened, he’d taken to wearing elastic suspenders. He hooked his thumbs in the front of the suspenders just above his waist and began to circle Tex slowly.
“Okay, Tex ol’ buddy,” he said, “how much money did you bring me today?”
Tex babbled something incomprehensible. Lipscomb kept circling.
“You remember Reid Kilgore?” Lipscomb said to Pinzon. “He went to SMU down in Dallas. He met Tex here at a party. Reid said Tex was good people but he’d fallen on some hard times. Tex told him his mother and father had both been killed in a car accident, but that he’d be flush as soon as the estate went through probate. He told Reid he could move ten ounces, easy. So for the first time in my career, I agreed to front product to somebody. I sent him ten ounces of pure powder. That was almost four months ago. He was supposed to send me my money within thirty days. Two months later, I called this lying piece of garbage. He said he’d get the money right to me. Didn’t you, Tex? Another month went by, and I realized we had a serious problem. So I called Tex back and invited to him to fly up here at my expense so we could work something out. I told him I’d be willing to front him some more product until he could get back on his feet. He was kind enough to agree to come up. In the meantime, I got a hold of Eduardo who got a hold of Santiago here. I paid Eduardo to fly Santiago up here on his private jet. Which means I’ve spent almost twenty thousand dollars to ask Tex this question. Where’s my money?”
“I don’t. . . I thought. . . I don’t have it with me,” Tex blubbered. “Please, give me another chance. I’ll get the money.”
“Wrong answer,” Lipscomb said. “Santiago, s
hoot him in the kneecap for me so he doesn’t try to get away.”
The gun roared and Tex screamed. He dropped to the floor and rolled onto his side, clutching the wounded knee.
“John! What are you doing?” Pinzon yelled. He rushed over to Tex’s side and knelt beside him. Blood was gushing through his fingertips.
“Get away from him,” Lipscomb said ominously.
“I’m not going to let you kill him.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Lipscomb said. “The only choice you have is whether you want to go with him.”
“Eduardo would gut you,” Pinzon said, looking uneasily at Santiago.
“Actually, Eduardo thinks you might be weak,” Lipscomb said. “He and I have become close. He realizes who’s making this business work. I’ve done a few things on the West Coast you don’t even know about. Eduardo’s making more money than he ever thought possible. I’ll admit it would be problematic if you were to come up missing, but it’s something I’m willing to deal with if you insist on acting like you’re not a part of this. So what’s it gonna be? Are you with me or against me?”
Pinzon stood and started to move away, but Tex grabbed his ankle.
“No,” Tex said pitifully. “Don’t leave me.”
Pinzon jerked his foot away.
“I’m not going to be a part of murder,” he said to Lipscomb, “I’m going outside.”
He took a few steps, expecting to hear the gunshot any second.
“You’re a part of it,” Lipscomb said. “You’re a part of all of it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Two nights after Lilly’s unexpected visit, Caroline and I were bustling around the kitchen preparing dinner. We were expecting guests. They weren’t supposed to arrive until eight, but I hadn’t been able to get away from work until after six and was running behind. The grand jury had been notified of a special session and would meet the following Monday to consider the case against the Lipscomb brothers and Andres Pinzon. Bates and his people had served subpoenas on all of the witnesses, and I believed we were as ready as we were ever going to be.
Sarah was scheduled to go into a rehab program called Daybreak in Ashville, North Carolina, the following morning. Caroline, with Sarah sitting next to her, had researched several places thoroughly on the internet. They’d settled on Daybreak because of its excellent reputation and because it was close enough to allow us to bring Gracie over for visits on the weekends. Caroline and Sarah had made dozens of phone calls, checking out the facility, the doctors and the program. I was encouraged that Sarah seemed so enthusiastic, that she recognized how important this phase of her life would be for both her and her child. She’d seemed to settle in nicely at the house with Caroline and me over the past several days, was attentive to Gracie, and I found myself hoping that perhaps, finally, we’d hit on something that might work for her. If it didn’t, I’d be spending thirty grand for nothing.
I was standing over the stove stirring a reduction for chicken marsala when Sarah walked in.
“Mind if I go by the house and pick up a few things?” she said. “I need to button the place up, too, since nobody’s going to be there for a month.”
I glanced over at Caroline, who was checking on a loaf of French bread in the oven.
“Can it wait until after dinner? One of us will give you a ride.”
“I think it’s probably best if I’m not here for dinner, and you don’t need to give me a ride. I’m perfectly capable of driving over there and driving back.”
Sarah’s car was still parked in the driveway at her house, right where we’d left it after the incident at the grocery store. She hadn’t driven since I brought her home from the hospital, and we’d made sure that she spent very little time alone.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” I said.
“I promise I’ll be good, big brother,” she said. “I’ll leave Gracie here as a hostage so you know I won’t stray. It’ll only take a while. I’ll be back before ten.”
I hesitated. Considering her track record, I wasn’t inclined to give her the opportunity to do something stupid, especially since we’d be driving her to Ashville in the morning. The temptation to get high one last time might prove to be too much for her.
“C’mon, Joe, I made one mistake,” she said.
“You’ve made lots of mistakes.”
“I’m doing everything you asked. Except for that one night, I haven’t had a drop to drink in almost two years. I’m going to the nuthouse tomorrow for a month, and in case you’ve forgotten, I’m a grown woman. Stop treating me like a teenager. If I’d wanted to, I could have snuck out any time during the past week. I know you leave your keys in the truck.”
There wasn’t much more I could say. If she’d wanted to go on a binge, she could have done it, and I knew if she was going to be successful with the treatment, she’d ultimately have to do it on her own.
“You’ll go straight there and come straight back?”
“Yes, master. Straight there and straight back.”
“Take the truck.”
Ten minutes after Sarah left, Lilly and her boyfriend arrived. His name was Randy Lowe, and as much as I wanted to choke him for getting her pregnant, I liked him immensely. He was a bright, handsome kid, twenty-one years old, with a solid build, sandy-brown hair and optimistic, energetic blue eyes. He was taking pre-med courses at the University of Tennessee and wanted to become a pediatrician. Caroline and I greeted them warmly, and a few minutes later, we sat down at the table to eat. Caroline was to my left, Lilly to my right, and Randy sat directly across from me. Gracie was in a high chair between Caroline and me, babbling happily.
“I assume you two have given this as much thought as your mother and I,” I said after everyone was settled and the food had been passed around the table.
“We know exactly what we’re going to do,” Lilly announced confidently.
“Really? Enlighten me.”
“We’re going to finish the semester at UT and get married on December seventh,” she said. “Then we’re going to transfer up here to ETSU and move in with you guys. The baby isn’t due until April, so I think I’ll be able to finish out the spring semester. I’ll take the summer off and finish up next year. Randy can go to med school at Quillen after he graduates, and in the meantime, you and mom and Randy’s parents can help us take care of the baby.”
I looked at Caroline, who was doing all she could to suppress a smile, and then at Randy. He was staring at his chicken. His arms were folded across his chest and his face had gone pale.
“Are you alright, Randy?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Are you sure? You look like you’re going to throw up.”
“I’m okay.”
“Have you told your parents about this little situation?”
Randy’s parents had divorced when he was young, but he’d come through it remarkably unscathed and remained close to both of them.
“Yes, sir.”
“What do they think?”
“They probably think about the same thing you think, sir.”
“So they think you’re an idiot? A moron? An immature dipstick who allowed himself to think with his one-eyed monster instead of his brain?”
“Daddy!” Lilly said. “Stop it.”
“You know something, Randy? I’m sitting here having a meal with you right now, but what I’d really like to be doing is cutting your pecker off with a dull knife.”
“I said stop it!” Lilly yelled.
“It’s alright,” Randy said. “I deserve this.”
I wasn’t angry, but I couldn’t resist taking a few pot shots at him.
“Let me ask you something,” I said. “Have you ever heard of this little invention called a condom? I guess maybe it’s a bit of a primitive device by modern standards, but it works. It comes in this little foil package. All you have to do is take it out of the package and slide it over your joy stick before you hop in the sack, and voil
a! No baby. They sell them in pharmacies and convenience store bathrooms all over the country.”
“I didn’t mean to, sir,” he mumbled.
“You didn’t mean to what? You didn’t mean to have sex with my daughter or you didn’t mean to get her pregnant?”
“Get her pregnant.”
“So you meant to have sex with her.”
“Well. . . I. . .”
“You’re a pre-med major, right? You know that having sex sometimes leads to reproduction? In fact, if I’m not mistaken, I believe that having sex is the primary means of reproduction for the human species, isn’t it?”
His face was going from pale to pink. He sat there motionless, looking forlorn and deflated.
“So if you meant to have sex with her and you understand that having sex leads to reproduction, yet you did nothing to prevent it, how can you sit here and tell me that you didn’t mean to get her pregnant?”
“I was drunk.”
“Ah, yes, of course. The universal excuse. I’m sorry, your honor, I didn’t mean to cut her head off with an axe. I was drunk. Have mercy, judge, I didn’t mean to run over that child. I was drunk. I’m sorry, Mr. Dillard. I didn’t mean to knock up your daughter. I was drunk. And now, since you decided to get drunk, and since you didn’t mean to get Lilly pregnant but you did, my wife and I get the opportunity to help you and my daughter raise a brand spankin’ new child. Thank you, Randy. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
I shoved a fork full of chicken into my mouth and smiled.
“Wow,” I said. “This is good stuff. Dig in.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
We sat at the table for more than an hour following my rant. Caroline had waited several minutes before she spoke, but she finally managed to ease the tension and we ended up talking seriously about what we needed to do to prepare for the birth. Gracie became fussy about thirty minutes into the conversation, so Caroline took a brief break and put her to bed. Randy even ate a couple of bites of his supper, and eventually his face returned to its natural color.
