Murder! Too Close To Home

by J. T. Lewis

  “Damn it,” was all that his overloaded mind would let him say as he sealed the bag, writing the pertinent information on the outside of it with a marker.

  Taking out a cigarette and popping it into his mouth, he quickly dug his Zippo out of his pocket to light it.

  Play smoking wouldn’t suffice tonight.

  Keying his mike, he raised dispatch to make sure that forensics and the coroner had been called, and to tell everyone that Larry was ok, at least physically.

  He hoped that there was enough evidence to help clear his deputy; otherwise it looked like he might have at the very least an accidental shooting on his hands. He had known Larry for years, there was no way, even in his wildest imagination that he could conceive of the deputy doing this on purpose.

  Lean had another problem scratching at his soul however, one that had even more dire consequences for him personally. This would be the third strike on his department in a little over a month. Voters wouldn’t be lining up to reelect someone with a string of screw-ups like he was piling up. That is, of course, if they didn’t try to run him out of town before the election.

  Thank God they didn’t tar and feather anymore.

  Police cars were everywhere now, the sheriff quickly falling into his normal role of barking orders and overseeing details. He spotted the life squad as it weaved its way through the parked police cars. Sheriff McHenry directed it personally to Larry’s position.

  Squatting down to talk to Larry once more, he gently shook the now almost comatose deputy.

  “Larry, look at me son.”

  Larry slowly looked up, his red eyes finally coming into focus.

  “Larry, the EMT’S are here to look you over. I’m going to advise you as a friend not to talk to anyone about this until you talk to your union’s attorney. I’ll make sure someone calls him for you. Do you understand everything I’m saying?”

  Larry nodded imperceptibly just as an EMT hurried over to check him out.

  “Thanks boss,” Larry added softly as the sheriff rose again.

  Standing now in the center of the road, Sheriff McHenry watched as his people did what his people did. Normally he would be extremely proud, but tonight his heart was filled with dread and uncertainty.

  “What the hell was going on in this county?” he asked himself, seemingly a daily question as of late.

  Pulling another cigarette out of his pack and lighting it, he inhaled deeply, letting the smoke slowly depart his body through his nose before turning back to his car.

  “Damn it!”

  Chapter 57

  March 22, 1997

  A white frame, two-story house with a new paint smell stood prominently before me in the moonlight. It appeared to be old but well built, and it appeared to be deserted at the moment.

  It was pitch-black inside.

  Suddenly I noticed a small sliver of light at the edge of one of the windows, a silhouette peeking out quickly before disappearing again.

  I carefully walked toward the window, seeing that it was covered from the inside with some kind of heavy curtain or blanket. Small amounts of dim light were showing in places along the edge of the window covering.

  A phone started ringing loudly just on the other side of the window. I was not expecting this and turned to hide before someone noticed me. As I started to turn, I backed into a short stump, losing my balance and falling back, my arms flailing at the air. The ringing continued to blare in my ear.

  I continued to fall for what seemed like ten seconds; the young buds and branches of the spring canopy of a tree in the yard watching me from above as I fell. I finally landed with a THUD…onto the floor of my dark bedroom, the phone beside my bed yelling for me to pick it up.

  Allen Vanguard was on the other end of the line, his voice full of worried energy. It appeared that our ‘unofficial’ investigation scheduled for this morning would have to wait.

  We were to interview Larry from the Sheriff’s department instead.

  Giving me the short version of what he knew of the incident, I was at a loss to believe what I was hearing. Larry was one of the good guys, solid as a rock. He could be a little hard headed, but sometimes that was a good thing in a cop.

  Allen explained that he didn’t want there to be any possibility of public perception deeming this a cover-up by the Sheriff’s department. Bringing Frank and I into the investigation may help alleviate that sensitivity; at least that was the hope.

  Hanging up the phone, I noticed the time was 4:30 AM.

  Doesn’t anything ever happen during the day anymore?

  Looking over at Betty, I saw she was still sleeping. I got dressed and headed downstairs to make coffee, mulling over what I had been told about the case.

  He came upon a man in the road, determined he was injured; apparently blacked out, and woke up to the man being shot through the chest, probably by his own gun.

  The disparity of the man and this story were just too…too…weird, bizarre really. I would bet good money that if this information were anywhere close to being true, that someone would have had to force Larry to do it, under duress.

  My mind then started going through scenarios of what might force the deputy into doing something like this. Someone could have something on him, someone could have something on someone he cared about, or someone could have someone he cared about.

  I made a quick call to Allen, hurriedly outlining the possible scenario of someone holding or threatening one or more of Larry’s family. I told him it was a long shot, but considering the possible alternative, I thought it would be worth tracking down his family and checking on them.

  Allen said he would get someone right on it; then impressed on me again to get my ass down to the Emergency room to interview the deputy… soon.

  Pouring my coffee as I talked, I assured him I was walking out the door as we spoke. Hanging up, I grabbed my keys and locked up behind me, then headed to the car for the short drive to the hospital.

  ***

  Frank was waiting for me in the parking lot, sipping on a coffee while leaning against his car. As I approached the hospital, he fell in beside me for the short walk to the sliding emergency room doors.

  “Strange story,” I said quietly as I looked straight ahead.

  “Yep,” Frank answered in return.

  “You believe it?” I continued, almost to the door now.

  “Not on your life,” Frank uttered as the door slid open with a ‘whoosh’.

  Walking up a ramp, we entered another sliding door and into the lobby. Getting directions from the middle-aged bottle-blonde woman sitting at the desk, we entered the ER proper and found the room number she had given us.

  A tall dark-haired deputy stood outside the room, asking for our IDs before letting us pass into the room. I was unprepared for the sight that greeted me once inside.

  Larry was lying on the bed with his eyes closed, but you could tell he wasn’t asleep, his pasty white face a stark contrast to the normally robust man we knew.

  Opening his eyelids when he heard us enter, his eyes seemed wild as they telegraphed a whole range of emotions at once: fear, confusion, and shame being foremost.

  Sitting down on each side of the bed, I started by asking him if everyone in his family was ok, was there anything wrong at home?

  Confusion was the initial emotion he showed, and it continued as he told me no. “Why would you ask that?” he questioned. “Do you know something I don’t? Do you know if they are ok?”

  I assured him that as far as I knew, they were indeed ok. I averted any more questioning on his part by telling him it was just a test to check his mental alertness. That seemed to satisfy him for the moment; and he seemed to relax slightly as it had at least gotten him thinking of something else.

  “Larry,” Frank started, “Are you ok talking to us without your legal representative here?”

  Looking up at both of us before responding, he finally shrugged.

  “Yeah, I trust you guys.”

/>   “We need to go over what happened, at least as you remember it,” Frank continued. “I know you’ve already done this multiple times, but we need to hear it again, slowly. Try not to leave any detail out, even if it seems minor.”

  He described to us how he had found the man lying on the road, how he had first checked his surroundings before calling it in and approaching, then checking the man’s pulse to find him alive.

  “Like I told the sheriff, the next thing I remember was laying on the road with my face in the gravel, that and that I felt groggy, like my head was spinning and I couldn’t wake up.”

  “When I finally realized where I was, I got up and looked at the guy in the road, he had a hole in his chest. I checked his pulse, but he was dead. I got up and looked around with my gun, but didn’t see anyone. Looking down I found a 9mm shell casing lying on the ground, then realized that my gun had been fired. Then I called it in.”

  I had been writing this all down as he talked, and now spent a few minutes going over it while Frank asked him if he needed anything. Larry shook his head while staring at his toes at the foot of the bed.

  “Larry,” I started after going over the notes, “I know this is a pain, but I would like you to try to get a few more details, for instance, did you immediately jump out of your car when you got there, or did you wait for awhile?”

  Closing his eyes to think, he answered slowly and deliberately. “I did not get out immediately; I lit up the spotlight and checked the area first. Then I put the spotlight on the man in the road before getting out, calling it in, and advancing on the car. I continued to check the area as I moved toward the car, I had my weapon drawn.”

  “Good,” I said, “What happened next? As much detail as possible.”

  “I noticed it was a Taurus, red I think. I remember thinking that I should call in the plates; I don’t remember what the plate numbers were though.”

  “I kneeled down and felt for a pulse,” he continued. “He had one, he was alive.

  He had a big knot on his forehead, and I remember thinking that he probably got in a fight…you could smell alcohol, pretty much of it.”

  “I got ready to call it in and to ask for a bus. I remember getting tangled in a thorn bush. I moved over a little and then grabbed the mike… That’s all I remember before I woke up.”

  “You know the rest; it’s still pretty fuzzy.”

  I finished writing it all down, then leaned back in the chair to think. Frank was ramrod straight across the bed. He had once told me he did his best thinking when he was more or less in an uncomfortable position. I could see he was mulling over something, and I knew from past experience that it was best to leave him be when he looked like that.

  “Larry, how far off the road would you say had the car been parked?” Frank asked suddenly.

  Larry gave it some thought before answering. “Actually, it was more like on the side of the road, not off of it…more or less looked like he just stopped where he was.”

  The wheels were really spinning in Frank’s head now, and I had no idea where they were heading. Pointing a finger at Larry’s legs, he said, “Right leg correct? The thorns?”

  Larry nodded and Frank made his way around the bed and pulled up the sheet, as well as the part of the gown covering Larry’s thigh. He found a single stick mark, like a large red chigger bite on his leg.

  “Unless I miss my guess, I don’t believe you were into a thorn bush. Not likely to be thorns in the middle of the road, you being on the left side of the car especially.”

  Things were starting to clear up in my head now too, but Larry still looked confused.

  I think Frank was about to fix that.

  “I believe you were drugged, Larry my boy, and since you had checked the area pretty well on the way to the car, I think you were darted. If we get the Doctor to give you a blood test, we’ll find some sort of tranquilizer in your system. Unless I miss my guess, I don’t think you did anything at all. Someone else shot you, probably then used your gun to shoot the guy on the road. This smells to me like the “Ghost” has struck again…at least that’s what I’m thinking.”

  It took a few seconds for the information to sink in before relief flooded Larry’s eyes.

  And that wasn’t the only thing that started flooding his eyes.

  Frank and I quickly excused ourselves from the room, saying we would get the Doctor to run the blood test. The sound of sobbing followed us out of the room, the relief felt at not being responsible for killing a man escaping Larry’s body any way it could.

  “Good catch!” I told Frank with a slap on his shoulder as we walked to the nurse’s station. “That may never have come to the fore if that steel trap of a mind of yours hadn’t worked it out so quickly.”

  “Humph,” was all my friend would say.

  Chapter 58

  March 22, 1997

  Frank and I decided to stop at Tim’s Truck Stop for some breakfast…and at least a pot of coffee. The hospital had called my cell on our way to tell me that there were indeed barbiturates in Larry’s system. They were going to give him additional saline to help flush it out of his system. I thanked them and gave my partner the news.

  “Now who’s physic?” I asked Frank with a smile.

  “That was just good old fashioned police work, along with a bit of luck,” he offered, clearly embarrassed.

  I gave Allen a call with the results of our interview and the discovery of the drugs in Larry’s system. Relief was evident in his voice as he thanked us and said he would have the rest of the taskforce oversee the now-expanded crime scene. After hanging up, I gave Betty a quick call to forewarn her.

  The sexy voice that answered told me she was still in bed. I would give a thousand dollars to be there with her at that moment. I quickly outlined what had transpired so far in the investigation, and of the impending call from Allen.

  “That must be who is beeping in now,” she replied before we said quick goodbyes and I clicked off.

  “I owe that lady a good vacation when this is all over,” I said to Frank, who nodded over his menu as he worked up his order.

  We flagged down our waitress and ordered our breakfast. Frank ordered eggs over easy, bacon and toast. I ordered the same, along with a big order of biscuits and gravy.

  We also told Ann, our waitress, that her tip got bigger the more coffee we drank, and she readily agreed to come by often with the pot.

  Nothing tasted better in the middle of the night than a good old greasy breakfast, and we dug into the cholesterol riddled food with gusto. I would need to walk the dog a few more times in the next few days to make up for it, but for now, I was in heaven.

  As we sat drinking coffee after devouring the huge pile of food, I let Frank in on my latest dream, and how it had confirmed to me anyway that the house was newly painted.

  He asked a few pertinent questions, which I answered to the best of my knowledge. I also told him of hearing the ring of the phone while I was in my dream. Although the phone in my house had actually been ringing, it got me to thinking that Wesley probably had a cellular phone with him, and maybe we would be able to track cell phone usage in some way.

  Frank gave that some thought while he drank his coffee.

  “Since we assume he doesn’t have any electric, he more than likely doesn’t leave it on much. That may be tough to track if he is indeed only using it as few minutes a day, or maybe even less.”

  His logic made sense to me immediately and I told him as much. We decided to keep the notion on the list to explore at a later date.

  Paying our bill and leaving a generous tip for Ann, we then headed to the office to fill out some reports and other paperwork needed on the case. Frank’s theory that our serial killer was also involved in this case was born out when the taskforce finished with the crime scene and started trickling into the office later that morning.

  We all assembled in the conference room to go over the facts of both facets of the investigation. Allen stormed in
like a whirlwind.

  “Ok people, whatawegot?”

  Frank and I went over our interview with Larry in the hospital, and the subsequent determination that he has indeed been drugged. We had of course then theorized that there was another person in the area, and that after drugging the deputy, had then taken Larry’s weapon and shot the injured man where he lay. Finally, we again made the assumption that the deed was most likely done by Jacob John Wesley, the ‘Ghost’.

  “We have proof of that,” Tucker Vance added excitedly. “He made a little memento for us and left it in the weeds about thirty feet from the scene of the shooting. It was a makeshift grave marker made out of one of his cards and stuck in the dirt. Under the name ‘GHOST’ was written ‘RIP OLD MAN’. He also made a little doll out of the dead stalks of the weeds in the area. The doll was in the shape of a man, and was lying next to the grave marker.”

  “Sounds like his level of taunting us has been ratcheted up a notch,” Allen said as he looked over to the others in the group. “What else did you guys find at the scene?”

  Harry Clausing volunteered next. “The victim was one Jefferson Moore, went by the nickname ‘Gimme’. He was killed only a mile from his house in old Bonnell Town. Heavy drinker, lost his license years ago, if he had just stayed home…”

  Harry went silent for a few moments before continuing. “The weeds were bent from the perp’s traveling back and forth between the railroad tracks and the road, the little gravestone we found in an approximately six by three foot area of matted down grass where it looks like he had lain for quite awhile.”

  “We found one good footprint,” Tucker Vance added now, “size and depth are consistent with what we know of the build of Jacob Wesley. The crime scene guys are making a cast and we will try to match the shoes with a style and manufacturer.”

  “OK,” Allen started again, “we now know something else about our perp. Anyone know how he got there and how he got away?”