Sunshine State

by D P Lyle

  “You really wanted Ray to shoot him? With you standing right there?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  “What if he hit you by mistake?”

  “You ever seen Ray make a mistake?”

  She had me there.

  “Anyway,” I said, “I’m glad you paid attention in our Krav Maga classes.”

  She laughed. “And I’m glad you’re such a stud baseball player. That snow globe fastball was a thing of beauty.”

  Yes, it was.

  Chief Charlie Morgan was in his office with Frank Clark. He had arranged folding chairs for us. We sat.

  “To say that this is a hell of a mess doesn’t quite cover it,” Morgan said.

  “Not what this town needs,” Nicole said.

  “That’s true.” Morgan pinched his nose. “Last night, we had a long talk with Terry. Over at the hospital.” He looked at Nicole. “You did a number on his nose.”

  She shrugged.

  “And he’s got a big old goose egg on his forehead,” Morgan said. He nodded toward me. “Good to see you haven’t lost your stuff.”

  Now I shrugged.

  “I’m just glad no one got shot,” Morgan said.

  “It was touch and go for a minute there,” Ray said. “If I’d left it up to Nicole, someone would’ve.” He smiled at her.

  “I was a little hyped up,” she said.

  You think?

  “The docs admitted him,” Morgan said. “They straightened his nose. Somewhat. Did a CT scan. Said he had a concussion but nothing more serious. Kept him overnight for observation.”

  “He’s still there?” I asked.

  “Yep. Cuffed to the bed. One of my guys is sitting with him.”

  I nodded.

  Morgan continued. “Terry confessed to the entire deal. He and Tommy Lee cooked up the murder swap. Tommy Lee bought the phones. Terry grabbed the DNA from the evidence locker. Said he simply took a swab of the stain Billy Wayne left behind at Loretta Swift’s. Kept it in a vial of saline in his freezer.” Morgan opened his palms. “Got to admit, it was pretty clever.” He leaned back in his chair. “Then it was simply a matter of time. Waiting for the right evenings for the murders.”

  “And he did kill Tommy Lee?” I asked.

  “He did. Said when he got the phone call from the other phone he knew something was wrong. He went to see what Tommy Lee’s story was. Was he the one that made the call? Did he flip on him? If the phone was missing, did he know who had it?” Morgan sighed. “Ultimately, he decided that Tommy Lee was a liability.”

  “Secrets can only be kept by one person,” Pancake said.

  I looked at Frank Clark. “We’re sorry.”

  He nodded. “I still miss her. Always will.”

  “For more than that. For the lies we had to tell each of you.”

  “You mean about the documentary?” Morgan asked.

  “No,” Nicole said. “That’s real. In fact, we’ll have a crew in here to do the interviews in a couple of weeks. We’re working on that schedule right now.” She smiled. “Each of you can expect a call in the next day or so.”

  “It’ll be good to see you again,” Morgan said.

  “It won’t be me,” Nicole said. “Just a producer and camera and sound people. We’ll then edit in my parts and put it all together.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Clark said. “That it’s going to happen. I think Sara would have liked it.”

  “I need to clear up something else,” I said. Clark gave me a quizzical look. “This started because Billy Wayne Baker said he didn’t do two of the killings he confessed to. He had to confess to all of them to get off death row. Then he found a pen pal. Guy with a love for true crime and lots of money. Billy Wayne confided in him and the guy believed him. Paid for our investigation.”

  “Who is it?” Morgan asked.

  I shook my head. “Can’t say. His anonymity was part of the deal.” I looked at the floor and then back to Clark. “Once we looked into all of Billy Wayne’s murders, the only place that even remotely made sense was here. Three killings when there was only one everywhere else. A cop’s wife one of the victims.”

  “A cop who could stage the crime and plant the evidence?” Clark asked.

  I nodded. “We came in here expecting it was you.” I sighed. “And we’re sorry for that.”

  Clark rubbed his chin. “Truth be told, I’d have come to the same conclusion.” He raised an eyebrow. “If I’d believed Billy Wayne in the first place.”

  “If you talked to him, you just might,” I said. “He’s very convincing.”

  “Which was part of his MO,” Morgan said.

  “Yes. He’s very good at making you feel relaxed around him.”

  “And, Jake’s gullible,” Nicole said. “At least as far as Billy Wayne and I are concerned.”

  She’s funny. I swear to God she is.

  “But Billy Wayne was telling the truth,” I said. That even sounded defensive to me.

  “So do I.” She smiled. “Mostly.”

  “Women,” I said with a headshake.

  Morgan laughed. “I’d say you got a good one.”

  That I do. Most definitely.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  BEFORE WE LEFT the police station, Morgan told us he didn’t suspect he’d need us to come back and testify or anything like that. That since Munson had confessed, there wouldn’t be a trial. We said we would if anything changed and that we’d each write up a statement and get it to him within the week.

  He and Clark walked us outside.

  “You have a wonderful town here,” I said. “A pleasant place to live.”

  “It is,” Clark said. “Despite what you’ve seen of it, it’s pretty boring around here. And that’s how we like it.”

  We all shook hands. Then, Nicole gave each of them a hug.

  We had one more stop to make. Woody’s. To say goodbye to Betty Lou and so Pancake could see Laurie Mae, tell her he’d be back in a few months. Once the documentary was completed. It was emotional. Betty Lou actually cried. Laurie Mae, too.

  Nicole took my hand as we followed Ray and Pancake back to the hotel.

  “I love this town,” she said.

  “The mortality rate’s high,” I said.

  “That aside, it’s pretty cool.”

  “It is.”

  We lugged our bags downstairs and loaded up for the drive back to Gulf Shores. I told Ray and Pancake that we needed to detour by Union Correctional for a chat with Billy Wayne, so we’d be an hour or more behind them.

  Pancake grunted. “With Nicole driving, the detour means we’ll all get there about the same time.”

  By the time we crossed the bridge and headed toward the highway, I had Billy Wayne’s attorney, Winston McCracken, on the line.

  “Billy Wayne was telling the truth,” I said.

  “Really?”

  I told him the story.

  His take: “Now I’ve heard it all.”

  “What’s your next step?” I asked.

  “Get the wheels of justice turning. Get a couple of Billy Wayne’s confessions overturned.”

  “Will that be a problem?”

  “Shouldn’t be. Since Munson confessed, we won’t have to wait on a trial.”

  “Good. I’m headed to Raiford to chat with him now. Okay if I tell him we’ve chatted and what you’re planning?”

  “Absolutely. I’m sure he’ll be pleased. It won’t change his address, but it’ll for sure satisfy his fair play rule.”

  An hour later, I sat waiting for Billy Wayne to appear behind the glass. Seems I was now on a first-name basis with a couple of the Union Correctional guards. Not sure that was a good thing, but it made the transition from outside to inside smoother.

  Billy Wayne sat and picked up the handset.

  “What brings the great baseball player by?” he asked.

  “I wanted to be the first to tell you that you were right.”

  “I knew that. What’s the story
?”

  I told him.

  “So it was the cop. Just like I said.”

  “Yeah, but not the one you thought.”

  “I never said who I thought it was,” he said.

  “Come on, Billy Wayne. You thought it was Clark, too. No way you knew it was Munson.”

  He laughed. “Just messing with you, man. Yeah, after I read all the investigative stuff that McCracken gave me, I believed it was Clark. He was the husband, after all.”

  “You’ll also be happy to know that I talked with Mr. McCracken. He’s getting the ball rolling on overturning two of your confessions.”

  “Good.”

  “He said he didn’t see any obstacles, so hopefully all that will be resolved soon.”

  “My friend, the one who’s paying you guys.”

  “Jason Levy.”

  “So, you know?”

  “We wouldn’t be very good if we didn’t.”

  Billy Wayne smiled. “I guess that’s true. Well, seems he has a guy lined up to write my story. Ain’t that a hoot?”

  I had no response for that. Neither did I feel the need to tell him of the documentary. In which, of course, Billy Wayne just might not come off so well.

  In the end, I wished Billy Wayne well and walked out of Union Correctional. Hopefully for the last time.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  WE DIDN’T RETURN to Pine Key for several months. Early December. Nothing had changed. Except for the weather and the buzz. It was cold, even some predictions that it might snow. In the Sunshine State? Go figure. The buzz, however, was electric. Everyone in town was talking about the documentary.

  Saturday night. The high school gym since the local movie theater was too small for the premier of Aftermath: Pine Key, the first installment of the eight-part documentary Uncle Charles was shepherding. The screening on TV wouldn’t be for another month, after the holiday season, but we felt a showing for the residents of Pine Key would be a good deal. From the reaction of the town folks, it was.

  Posters lit up every building. They even had over-the-street banners. And Gloria Whitt had splashed it on the front page of the Pine Key Breeze.

  Nicole was serving as host and doing the voice-overs for the entire series. We had spent a week in LA recording the first four episodes. The others would require a return visit next month.

  A low stage had been constructed at one end of the gym. The bleachers were filled, as were the army of folding chairs on the floor. I suspected the local fire marshal had waved the rules.

  The murmuring that filled the space was filled with excitement, laced with a palpable layer of sadness, even dread. After all, this was their story. It might be a little slice of Hollywood, but it was also a revisiting of the town’s worst nightmare. The anticipation of seeing friends and family reveal their innermost pain on a large screen, naked, exposed for all to see, had to be an unnerving feeling. One of those things that you wanted to see but dreaded doing so.

  I stood stage right with Nicole. The lights dimmed, the murmurs waned. A single overhead spotlight fell on the center of the stage.

  “Showtime,” Nicole said.

  “Break a leg.”

  She walked onstage, into the cone of light. The applause was real, but nervous. She looked magnificent. Tight black jeans and a coral RGP shirt. Her hair glowed like a halo. She held a wireless microphone. She waved to the crowd and waited for the noise to fade.

  “Thank you all for coming out tonight for this very special event. I’m Nicole Jamison and I’m the host of this series. This entire project is special to us at Regency Global Productions, or RGP as we call it. It is an eight-part documentary series that focuses on the victims of serial predators like the one that visited your community. It’s not the story of Billy Wayne Baker. It’s not the story of any of the killers the series will profile. It’s the story of the victims and their friends and family. It’s your story.”

  Another smattering of cautious applause.

  “The episode you will see tonight will be the premier episode of the series.”

  The applause this time was louder and longer.

  “You will see many of your friends interviewed in the film. You will unfortunately relive a very sad and stressful time for your community. The purpose is in no way to add to your pain, or feed on your tragedy, but rather to celebrate the strength and courage of this town and especially those so closely affected by Billy Wayne Baker. We want to thank you all. You opened your doors and your hearts to us and we are eternally grateful. This is a wonderful town and we love it. And all of you.”

  Now, applause and shouts erupted.

  “Before we begin the film, I have an announcement to make. To show our appreciation for you and to say thank you for welcoming us into your lives, RGP has a couple of special gifts for Pine Key.” She shielded her eyes from the light. “Will Police Chief Charles Morgan join me onstage?”

  A murmur rose from the crowd. Morgan climbed onstage and moved to where Nicole stood.

  “Chief Morgan,” Nicole said. “Regency Global has purchased a pair of new, state-of-the-art cars for your department.”

  A picture of the two vehicles parked in front of the Pine Key police station appeared on the screen. People stood, chairs scraping the floor. The applause was enthusiastic.

  “We want to present you with the keys to your new vehicles, which, as you can see, are now parked at the station.”

  He took the keys, shaking his head. Nicole held the mic toward him.

  “This is a surprise. We had no idea. I mean, you had mentioned a car a few months ago, but I never imagined it would happen. Let alone two.” He shook his head. “We are very grateful.”

  When the applause died and Morgan left the stage, Nicole took center stage. She gazed over the crowd. Smiled.

  “Now I want to present to you, Aftermath: Pine Key.”