PJ hesitated as if analyzing every word he had spoken and then replied, "Sure, where did you have in mind."
"My office. We can talk privately there." He pointed down the street and said, "Go up there two blocks and turn right on Fourth. PD's in the second block. Can't miss it." With that he walked back to his car.
As we drove the few blocks, I asked PJ, "So, what do you make of this?"
She muttered, "Not sure. Not at all sure."
We easily found the small metal sided building that housed the Pineywoods Police Department. It didn't look any more impressive up close than it did when we had driven by on our first trip into town. The Chief had driven away first so he'd arrived before us. He was just walking through the front door when we parked. He didn't wait for us at the door, I guess that would have been too social. I had the feeling that this wasn't really a social occasion.
Inside the place didn't look any better than outside. A well worn counter stood about five feet from the door. It was evidently where police business was conducted with walk-ins. Two desks stood behind and to the left of the counter. They looked as if they could have been military surplus, drab green and oft dented. One had an old computer sitting on it, but the other looked unoccupied. To the right of the counter stood a small office, enclosed floor to ceiling by what appeared to be home made dividers with wooden panels about waist high and glass panels above. A sign mounted on the door said Investigations. In the center of the back wall was a door with Chief stenciled on it.
Chief Davies was pouring water into a coffee maker when we walked in. He turned and said, "Come on back. Coffee will be ready in just a couple of minutes. Let's have a seat in my office."
We followed him into what turned out to be a space about equal to the front half of the building. A large dark cherry executive desk stood in the center of the room with a matching hutch behind it. Between the two stood a black tufted leather high back swivel chair. Two straight backed traditional captain's chairs in matching wood stood in front of the desk. A round conference table with four chairs matching the two in front of his desk occupied one corner. He indicated for us to take the chairs in front of his desk as he settled into his large swivel chair.
I looked around the office and noticed an ego wall covered with framed certificates. I couldn't read all of the titles, but they appeared to me to be certificates for traditional basic law enforcement training classes. I didn't spot any diplomas for institutions of higher education. Along another wall stood a double-door heavy-gauge-steel gun cabinet. An NRA Life Member bumper sticker was stuck to one of the doors.
Steepling his hands in front of him the chief said, "I thought maybe it would be a good idea if we chatted a bit about the investigation you two are conducting." The word investigation seemed to have a bit of a contemptuous tone to it, or maybe it was just my intense dislike for the chief clouding my judgement. The chief had paused, evidently expecting PJ to offer something in comment. Maybe one of those certificates was for an interview and interrogation class. If he has a certificate PJ probably has a Master's Degree. She was stone silent.
After the pregnant pause, the chief continued, "I understand that you have talked to a number of people around town. I don't like it, but there is nothing I can do to stop it, so I thought there are some things you should know. It might keep you from reigniting a powder keg."
He paused again. This time he got a subtle nod and a, "Go on, Chief," from PJ.
He leaned back in his chair and raised his hands in a gesture as if he was about to lecture the uninitiated. He said, "You need to understand some of the demographics around here. Pineywoods is a real melting pot. We have your basic Florida cracker like me. People who trace their roots clear back to the first settlers in the area. Add a portion of blacks who trace their roots back to slavery. Mix in a few rednecks who migrated here when cheap labor was in dire need. Then you add a healthy dose of Mexicans who have come, legally or otherwise, to fill the jobs the rednecks had decided were beneath their dignity. Finally, you stir in a helping of Indians who claim to predate all of us and make no bones about their contempt for us." His eyes narrowed, "Now all of these ingredients are in the pot all of the time. Most of the time you just have an occasional bubble or two, but turn up the heat and you very quickly get a rolling boil. The murder of Jessica Parry was one of those events that really turned up the heat."
A loud beeping sound indicated the coffee was finished, but the chief didn't seem to notice. He continued, "You see Jessica was very popular with the boys in town, and being the head strong young woman she was, she did not discriminate in her choice of partners. Consequently, each one of our various racial or cultural factions was convinced that her death was the work of one of the other factions. The whites pointed at the blacks, the blacks pointed at the Mexicans, and as a fall back everybody pointed at the Indians. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
PJ leaned forward ever so slightly and looked the chief directly in the eyes, "I understand exactly what you're saying, but the social tensions didn't have anything to do with the impartial investigation that led to the arrest and conviction of Freeman Robinson, did they?" Her tone was neutral, her words were not.
Surprise swept across Davies face and he was momentarily speechless. "Of course not. What I'm trying to tell you is that your poking around town is starting to reignite tensions. That's what I want to prevent. You can reinvestigate all you want, the outcome will be the same. Freeman Robinson killed that girl and he's going to die for it. What I don't want is for you to come here, stir up a bunch of trouble, and then you waltz back to Hollywood and leave me with the boiling pot." Now his eyes narrowed even tighter and he glared back at PJ, "Am I making myself clear?"
PJ leaned back into her chair and her jacket was gapped open. She smiled softly and said, "I certainly understand Chief. Please know that the last thing we want to do is cause you any trouble. To be honest, when I took this case I really felt Robinson was guilty. It's just that, with the weak defense he got, we're in a position of trying to verify that nothing was missed. I have no reason to doubt that you did a superior job, it's the sloppy defense work that we're grappling with." Now she crossed her legs. Even in her standard pants suit it is obvious that PJ is a well proportioned woman. I had the distinct impression I was watching a puppet master gently tugging on the strings of someone who doesn't yet realize he is the puppet.
Davies exhaled slowly and said, "That coffee must be ready by now. Let me get you a couple of cups. Do you take anything in it?"
I replied, "No Chief, I take it black. Thanks."
PJ said, "Chief, I don't drink coffee. Any chance you would have a Coke or something like that around?"
Now standing he said, "Wow, a cop who doesn't drink coffee. Now that's a real anomaly."
PJ smiled, "My partner always said that my other vices more than made up for not drinking coffee."
His dark eyes were suddenly alive, "I'm sure there's a Coke in the little fridge out there. I'll be right back."
I looked quizzically at PJ. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "What? What did I do?"
The chief returned with a can of Coke and two mugs of coffee. He said, "Let's move to my conference table, it's more comfortable." The puppet is dancing.
After we were seated at the table I took a sip of my coffee. Hoping to contribute to PJ's shift in strategy I said, "Good coffee, Chief."
He didn't respond to me, but said to PJ, "I know you have a job to do. It's just that I'm getting calls. People are getting riled up and rumors are starting to fly. I stopped in for lunch at Pappy's and he told me that he heard that you were working to get Robinson released. Not a stay of execution, not a new trial, but an out and out release. That's how the rumor mill works around here, and you can bet your ass that if Pappy told me that story he's told half the town be now."
PJ said, "That explains why Pappy refused to serve us earlier today."
Davies inhaled, "That doesn't surprise me. He's pretty
emotional. Unfortunately, he influences a lot of public opinion out of that little restaurant of his. You see back at the time of the trial most of the town took sides. Oh, a few people were neutral and relied on the system to tell them whether Robinson was guilty or not, but most people made up their minds in the first few days after the arrest. The blacks and Mexicans thought we were looking for a scapegoat. The whites were ready to lynch him." He chuckled and added, "And the Indians, they didn't give a damn one way or the other, as long as one of them wasn't being blamed."
PJ nodded, "So our poking around is reawakening those old attitudes."
He nodded vigorously, "Exactly. Both sides had sort of forgotten about the whole thing, so the emotions were behind us. Now those emotions are reawakening and they are ugly."
We were all momentary quiet. I thought, but knew better than to say, "So Freeman Robinson should die so that people don't have to control their emotions."
PJ said, "Well Chief, maybe if we could clarify a couple of things with you, we wouldn't need to poke the sleeping dog."
He replied, "I'll do whatever I can to help. I presume you've read all of the reports?"
"We have."
"And the trial transcript?"
"That as well."
He cocked his head to one side, "Well, I'm not sure what else I can tell you, but I'll be glad to try."
Casually, PJ asked, "Tell us about Butch Bennett. You ever consider him a suspect?"
Shaking his head, "No, not really. No justification. He was out of town on his delivery route when Jessica disappeared. He was as shocked as everyone else. In fact he was pretty damn adamant about continuing ground searches, even after it was most likely that we were looking for a body not a person. He kept saying, 'I have to know what happened to my little girl. I have to know.'"
PJ asked, "You said he was out of town working. Did you ever verify that?"
Davies pursed his lips in almost a pout, "Of course I verified it. This might be a small town by your standards, but we do know how to do our jobs."
PJ held up her hands, "Chief, I don't doubt that you know how to do your job. It's just that there's no mention in the reports about verifying his alibi. That's the only reason I asked."
"Not in the report because he wasn't really a suspect. Didn't seem necessary."
PJ nodded slowly, "How did you verify, talk to his employer?"
"Exactly, I talked to the guy who ran the business at the time. Guy named Hendricks or something like that."
"Henderson?"
"Yeah, Henderson. That's who verified that Butch was, oh I don't recall exactly, but maybe a hundred miles away, something like that. Hell, Butch didn't even get back to town until more than a day after Jessica disappeared. Then, like I said, he threw himself into the search like a madman."
"How were things at home between Butch and Jessica?"
"What difference does it make?" He didn't kill her, so what difference does that make?"
"Well it sorta goes to the reason some people don't think Robinson is guilty. People say that things were real rocky between Butch and Jessica. That he was beating her mom and maybe her as well. You think that's true? Ever have any calls out there?"
The volume of his voice raised, "No, I never had any calls out there." He paused and seemed to regain his composure, "I heard the rumors, like everyone else. Rumors that he was knocking Amanda around. I even went to see her, at the realty office she worked at, and asked her point blank. She adamantly denied that Butch was hitting her and I don't know of anyone who ever saw any bruises, no black eyes, nothing like that. Lots of people don't like Butch and I think that's the reason for those rumors. Lots of people didn't think he was near good enough for Amanda." He paused before adding, "And I guess I'm one of them."
In an effort to be part of the conversation, I asked, "Why do you think Jessica changed her name from Bennett back to Parry?"
Davies glared at me and scoffed, "Why the hell does a sixteen year old do anything? I know what you're driving at, things were so strained between Butch and Jessica that she didn't even want to have his name any longer. I've heard that theory bantered around town, too. The problem I have with it is that she continued to live there, even after she graduated from high school. If things were so bad, why the hell didn't she move out?"
I replied, "Good point, Chief." His face softened, but only moderately.
PJ commented, "You can understand where we're coming from Chief. These are questions that should have been asked by the defense at the time. Since they weren't, we're forced to ask them now."
He seemed to relax a little, "Yeah, I understand, I see where you're coming from."
PJ added, "Your point about Jessica not moving out is a very good one. Maybe we can help you by mentioning that the next time someone tells us they think Butch was knocking Jessica around."
The chief leaned back into the chair and said slowly, "Just how many more people do you think you will be contacting?"
PJ replied, "Who knows. You know how investigations go Chief, you go where the information takes you. To tell you the truth, I'm not certain how much more there is to follow. You ruled Butch Bennett out and we've not heard mention of any other suspects, so I don't know how much more there will be for us to do." She paused and then added casually, "I know you interviewed a number of the kids that knew Jessica when she first disappeared, so I'm sure if anyone else had been developed as a suspect you would have pursued them. Doubt we'll find anything different."
He nodded and said, "That's right. I looked hard at everybody. Freeman Robinson was the last one seen with her. Freeman Robinson killed her. It's as simple as that. I don't know what more I can tell you."
PJ said, "I'm going to start to write things up for the attorney we're working for, can I check back with you if I have other questions? You know clarification."
"Yeah, sure. Of course. In fact I'd appreciate it if you'd check with me if you have questions. I'd rather answer your questions than have you asking them all over town, stirring the pot."
PJ smiled that disarming smile she is so capable of and said, "I think we can conclude this whole thing much sooner working together. Don't you?"
We thanked the chief for his hospitality and help and left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
After we were in the car and pulling away I asked, "So, what do you make of that?"
"He's worried. He knows he did a crap job and he's afraid we'll find something."
"We already know he lied about verifying Bennett's alibi with Henderson."
PJ considered my words before saying, "Yes, that's my assessment, but there are other possible explanations for what we were told by Jake Aarons. Maybe Henderson didn't tell Aarons the truth. Maybe Henderson didn't like cops, so he used every chance he could to make them look bad. It's a stretch, but who knows."
"I'm sticking with the belief that the Chief's lying to cover his ass."
"Oh, I think you are absolutely correct, I just don't want to fail to consider all possibilities."
"I hear you. It's like trying to consider both sides of a legal argument," I muttered, then asked, "That was an act you were putting on in there, you're not really thinking that there isn't much else to look at if Bennett isn't a suspect?"
PJ grinned and said, "Of course not. I just thought that I could buy us some time. Guys like Davies, with an ego like his, naturally thinks that he's always winning. Doesn't take much to get him leaning that direction. Maybe we'll get a little less interference from him, at least for a while."
As we turned down the street that Olivia Cooper lived on, I noticed a large black pickup turn behind us. Something about it caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand up. I said to PJ, "Don't stop at Cooper's house, keep going. I don't like the vibes I'm getting from the pickup following us, it reminds me of the one the other night. Let's find out."
PJ glanced in the mirror, "I can see what you mean. Could be. Let's go for a little drive and see what shakes out."
PJ drove past Cooper's house a couple of blocks and then made a turn heading back toward the main street. The truck made the same turn, holding its distance even though PJ was reducing her speed noticeably. We stopped at the stop sign at Main Street and PJ paused as if waiting for the nonexistent traffic to clear. The truck pulled up behind us. It could have turned into a driveway or taken some other evasive maneuver, but it didn't. It occurred to me that if it was the truck from the other night the driver's mission may well be to intimidate us, so there is no reason to be covert.
I made a snap decision and said to PJ, "Don't leave without me, I'm going to say hello to our friend." I grabbed my phone and hopped out of the car. As I was walking between the vehicles holding my phone down at my side I snapped a picture of the front plate on the pickup. I walked up to the driver's door just as the heavily tinted window slid down. The only occupant was the driver, a large barrel chested man with shoulder-length stringy black hair. The tee shirt he wore was pulled tightly across his chest and bulging biceps. Tattoos nearly covered both arms and crawled up his neck. The aroma of marijuana sweeping out the open window nearly knocked me over.
He looked at me from behind dark glasses and said, "Yeah, what is it?" His voice was uncharacteristly high pitched for a man his size.
I said, "We're lost. Trying to find the Nolan ranch." It was the only name I could think of on the spur of the moment. "We've gone damn near every direction out of town, but no luck. It's supposed to be only a couple of miles out of town, but we can't find it. Ever hear of it?"
"Never heard of it. You got an address?"
"That's the thing, we left the address sitting on the table at home. Stupid, I know, but we didn't realize it until we got here. We thought maybe with a little searching we could find it, but no luck."
Driven Be Jack_A Jack Nolan Novel Page 14
