A Bleak Prospect

by Wayne Zurl

  “Say I do.”

  She smiled. “I do what, darlin’?”

  “You’re deputized. Now help me do some po-leece work.”

  “Shoot, Sammy, I thought…Well, doesn’t matter what I thought, does it?”

  I didn’t answer that. “Do you know Ryan Leary?”

  “I’ve seen him on the TV news. Got himse’f inta some real trouble, hasn’t he?”

  “Yep. But you don’t know him personally?”

  “No.”

  “Does he know you?”

  “Me? I don’t think so.”

  “Okay. I need a dozen of your business cards.”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “Brand new deputy detectives shouldn’t ask questions.”

  I found Ralph and Bonnie standing in the lobby meeting Terri Donnellson and speaking with Bettye.

  “Hello, troops,” I said.

  “Hi, boss,” Terri said.

  Bettye asked, “Sammy darlin’, what are you up to? I know that look.”

  Ralph and Bonnie looked at me like I had two heads, probably wondering why I’d greet them again after leaving them only twenty minutes earlier.

  “Terri, you ever do any undercover work in the MPs?”

  “Uh, only once. It wasn’t much. CID needed a female decoy in an NCO club.”

  “Good. How far away do you live?”

  “Ten minutes or so.”

  “Also good. I want you to go home and change into civilian clothes. Have you got a short skirt and high heels?”

  A slight frown crossed her forehead. “Uh, sure.”

  “How about a real slinky blouse? Maybe something low cut.”

  Bettye broke in, protecting one of her new children. “Sam Jenkins, what’s goin’ on?”

  “Elementary, my dear Sergeant. We’re going to capitalize on Ryan Leary’s penchant for good-looking young women.”

  Bettye tilted her head and raised a single eyebrow. She only does that to fascinate me.

  “Officer Donnellson is going to pose as a real estate broker looking for listings. Leary’s neighborhood is full of big, expensive houses where, no doubt, everyone in the home has to work to pay their ridiculous mortgages. So, Terri probably won’t encounter any homeowners—except Leary who’s under house arrest. But he may not answer the door until Terri fakes having car trouble. Then she’ll go back and keep banging on his door until he can’t resist the young lady on his door step. With luck, he’ll make himself available to be collared—the easy way or the hard way, his choice.”

  “Uh, hey, paly, do we get any say about this?” Ralph asked.

  “Of course, Ralph. You get the arrest. The FBI comes out smelling like a French bimbo, Leary goes to jail, the Internet hookers of East Tennessee are once again safe, and we clear maybe nine homicides. Cool, huh?”

  He threw his hands up. “Why do I get involved with you?”

  “We’re goombahs. You know you love it. Shut up already.”

  “Nuts.”

  I laughed. “Hey, Betts, do you still own that blue mini-van?”

  “Not for a couple years. Why?”

  “I want a van with a sliding side door. Anyone in the building have one?”

  She thought for a moment. “I’ve seen Ted Hanshe, the man who has a contract with the city to do plumbing work, around for a couple days now. He drives a van.”

  “Yeah, Ted Hanshe, the auxiliary cop. He works church traffic details on Sundays. He’s good. Where is he?”

  “Somewhere on the second floor.”

  “I’ll find him. In the meantime, Terri, go home, change, and hurry back. Bring your own car. We can’t have you using a marked PD to do your real estate business.”

  * * *

  Ted Hanshe wasn’t difficult to find. I followed the noise to the ladies room, found an open door and a pair of legs poking out from one of the stalls.

  “Teddy, that you banging around in here?”

  “Yeah, who wants to know?” Ted was another transplant from somewhere in the northeast who brought his plumbing business with him.

  “Me, Sam Jenkins, your sometimes fearless leader. Got a minute?”

  He untangled himself from behind the toilet, got to his feet and stepped out wiping his hand on his pants legs.

  “Whaddaya say, Chief?” He extended his hand and shrugged. “It’s almost clean.”

  We shook hands, and I got down to business.

  “You got a few minutes to sign in as a part-time cop today? I need you and your van and promise a little excitement.”

  Ted was stocky but not fat and had a thick head of salt and pepper hair. His gray work shirt showed Hanshe and Sons Plumbing embroidered over the left pocket.

  “Yeah, I’m about done in this room. Who do I have to kill?”

  “Nothing that drastic. A couple of Feds and I want to arrest an uncooperative subject. You drive the van, and we’ll grab the guy and toss him into the back. Kind of like a snatch and grab operation. Interested?”

  A big smile crossed his very Irish face. “You bet. But you gotta give me a few minutes to clear some tools outta the van.”

  “No problem. We’re waiting for our undercover cop to get back wearing her civvies.”

  Terri showed up at 12:30. I missed lunch and was not a happy police chief. Bettye would also miss her hour off while we were out playing fugitive squad. But she didn’t care because she’d eat a container of low fat, low carb, low calorie yogurt at her desk. Ralph looked like he was gasping for a meal and a glass of beer, and Bonnie showed no emotion.

  We all met Ted Hanshe and Stan Rose in the parking lot. Terri followed us, driving her Mini Cooper, to the street where we found Leary’s cell phone. John Gallagher and Bobby John Crockett met us there.

  After a short council of war, Terri took off to begin her portrayal of Glenda Mae Waddell, real estate broker. Ted Hanshe drove the van with Stanley riding shotgun while Ralph and I hid in the back. He parked the van three doors down from Leary’s place. Bonnie and the other three parked the remaining vehicles out of sight, but close enough to Leary’s house to assist if necessary.

  Terri had changed into a red skirt that stopped four inches above her knees. That was topped off with a white scoop-neck blouse that showed enough cleavage to drive the likes of Ryan Leary into a frenzy but would still be appropriate for a young realtor who wanted to look professional, but cash in on her sex appeal. A natural tan linen jacket covered all that and looked very businesslike.

  She parked her Mini directly across from Leary’s house and conspicuously began knocking on front doors. When no one answered, she tucked a business card between the door and the frame. She worked her way down one side of the street and up the other. When she knocked on Leary’s door, he peeked out the window and asked what she wanted.

  “Afternoon, sir. I’s wonderin’ if y’all would like ta sell yer beautiful house? I’ve got interested buyers, jest needin’ a home like yours. And, sir, they got plenty o’ cash fer a down payment and won’t have a problem gettin’ a mortgage.”

  She really played up the southern belle act for him.

  “We’re not looking to sell,” he said.

  “Oh, shoot. I’s hopin’ I’d find someone interested in sellin’. Like I said, I got a few buyers really wantin’ inta this neighborhood. Kin I jest leave ya with my card? If ya know of anyone who wants ta sell and ya steer ‘em in my direction, I’d be sure ta mention ya in the contract and pay y’all a nice finder’s fee.”

  A few moments later, Leary opened the door and took the card Terri handed him—after thoroughly checking out her appearance and smiling like a copperhead eyeing up a juicy mouse.

  After hitting about a dozen houses, Terri walked back to her car. And she played it perfectly in case Leary had been watching. She appeared to be turning the ignition key, but nothing happened. She slapped the steering wheel and looked angry. She got out of the car, slammed the door and attempted to make a cell phone call. Having no luck there, she stomped across the street
and again knocked on Leary’s door. Soon enough he answered.

  “I’m sorry ta bother ya again,” she said, “but my car won’t start. I turn the key and get nothin’. On top o’ that, my cell phone is dead. I mean, like completely dead.”

  “You want to call a tow truck?”

  She gave him an inviting smile. “I’d like ta jest drive away. My car was perfectly okay a few minutes ago. Do ya know anythin’ about motors or cars or whatever?”

  Leary looked her over again and smiled. “Yeah, maybe.” Then he stuck his head out the door and checked up one side of the street and down the other—probably looking for police cars.

  Seeing only a white plumber’s van and nothing suspicious, he shrugged. “You don’t hear the engine turn over at all?”

  “No, sir, nothin’. I mean like really nothin’.”

  “Is the battery old?”

  She shook her head. “It’s only a two-year-old car.”

  “Okay. Maybe one of your wires popped off a terminal. I’ll take a look. Release the hood for me.”

  They walked away from the house toward Terri’s car.

  On the way, Terri touched his arm. “Oh, you’re so sweet.”

  With her high heels clicking on the blacktop and her backside swaying enough to keep Leary interested, she led him to the waiting Mini.

  As soon as Leary lifted the hood and stuck his head into the engine compartment, Ted Hanshe slapped the shift lever into gear and gently drove down the block. As he came parallel to Terri’s car, he jammed on the brakes and screeched to a stop. Ralph and I slid open the side door and jumped from the van. I slammed the hood down on Leary and twisted his left arm behind his back. While Ralph cuffed that hand, I pulled the right into place to receive the second handcuff.

  Together, we stood Leary upright, Ralph holding one arm and me the other. We pushed him through the van’s doorway and jumped in after him. It only took seconds.

  Ralph slammed the door closed, and Teddy hit the gas. As the van lurched forward, we all jockeyed for a secure position. Leary blinked several times and looked at me.

  “What the fuck is this? What’s going on?”

  “FBI,” Ralph said. “We have a warrant for your arrest.”

  “I know you,” Leary said, looking at Ralph. “We’ve done this before. I’m already under house arrest. What’s the problem? What’s this warrant business?”

  “The warrant is for murder, Ryan,” I said. “It’s all over.”

  “Sam, you’re fuckin’ crazy. This is bullshit.”

  “No, it’s not. We have your emails. We have your cell phone. You’re ‘Andy’. It’s over.”

  He let out a long breath and nodded. “I want to call my lawyer.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ralph, Bonnie and I took Leary into our squad room and closed the door. Stan Rose and Ted Hanshe walked to the lobby to give Bettye an account of what happened on the street. I knew I could trust Stanley to filter out the things my beloved administrative officer would raise her eyebrow over, but I never got the chance to instruct Teddy to keep the details of our swashbuckling and sometimes unconventional operations to a bare minimum. Terri drove her ‘disabled’ Mini Cooper back by herself.

  Ralph unhooked the handcuffs from behind Leary’s back and locked him to the steel ring bolted to the side of a desk.

  “Why am I here?” Leary asked as he rubbed his free wrist with his shackled hand.

  “Out of deference to you,” I said. “Would you rather we walked you through the halls of the Justice Center in cuffs?”

  His face changed from a tight look of defiance to a more relaxed, resigned expression. He shrugged. “No, thank you.”

  “In the van you said lawyer,” Ralph added. “There’s a phone.”

  “Okay, but can we talk first?”

  Always thinking like an attorney, Bonnie said, “Sure, if you sign a waiver of counsel first.”

  Leary attempted to make light of her thoroughness. “Come on, we’re just talking here.”

  I knew where he was trying to go. “Horseshit. Sign the paper, and we’ll talk all you want.”

  Leary flipped his free hand up to shoulder height in a gesture of resignation. “Okay, okay. Gimme the form.”

  I walked over to the shelves where all our paperwork resided, grabbed the appropriate document and handed it to Bonnie. She placed it on the desktop next to Leary and handed him a pen.

  He scribbled a signature on the dotted line. “There. Signed, sealed and delivered.”

  “Good,” I said. “You want to talk, it’s your dime.”

  “Who’s got the case, you or the FBI?”

  I raised my eyebrows and looked at Ralph.

  “The FBI has taken over responsibility for the Task Force,” he said.

  A sly smile and look of chagrin took over Leary’s face. “Ahh, the task force.” He spent a long moment nodding. “Who’s the AUSA in charge?”

  “Heidi Piper,” Ralph said.

  Ryan looked at me. “I doubt you’d have gotten involved in that spectacular little street arrest unless you had a good reason.”

  “We weren’t shooting in the dark, partner. We’ve got a warrant and a real good case.”

  “Then get Heidi down here,” Leary said. “I think we might have a deal.”

  “A deal for what?” Ralph asked, showing a great deal of attitude. “We’ve got your balls in a vice. Why should we deal?”

  “Simple. I won’t claim to be totally innocent or uninvolved, but I want the death penalty off the agenda. Then I’ll give you the guy everyone has been calling the Riverside Strangler.”

  “Gimme a break, Ryan,” Ralph said. “We’ve got you. We’ve got everything. You’re toast. You’re the man. You’re guilty. End of story.”

  Leary shook his head with a bit of vigor. “Hold your horses, cowboy. Yeah, I’m guilty—of something, but not of what you think. You wanna hear what I’ve got to say, or you wanna just stick it up my ass and not get the real killer?”

  “We’ll listen,” I said, “but quit dancing. What’s the story?”

  “The story, Sam, is I’ll give you the guy you want and the evidence you need to convict him—if we make a deal. It’s simple. I don’t want to die, and I have no problem pointing you in the right direction.”

  I was interested but losing patience. “And at whom will we be looking?”

  Leary grinned. “Someone important…very important.”

  Ralph showed his annoyance. “Come on, pal, you’re not writing a cliffhanger episode for some second rate TV show. Who’s so special?”

  Leary wouldn’t budge. “Get Heidi down here. I’ll call my lawyer. Then, when we’re all sittin’ around the campfire, I’ll tell ya what ya want to know.”

  Before we had pulled into the parking lot of the municipal building, Ralph had called Carl Harmon, who in turn said he would call Heidi Piper. So, they were already on the road travelling toward Prospect as fast as their little Government Issue tires could carry them out of Knoxville. When Ralph called a second time, Carl said they were about fifteen minutes away.

  Leary called his lawyer, J.R. Tolbert, but learned that J.R. was in court. Tolbert’s office manager promised to send an associate immediately and have Tolbert drag his ass to Prospect PD as quickly as possible.

  In the interim, Ryan seemed amenable to chat.

  “Look, Ryan,” I said, “There’s no reason we can’t do this in a civilized fashion. It’s after noon. Have you eaten?”

  “Not since breakfast. But as you may assume, I’m not really in a festive mood lookin’ for snacks.”

  “Suit yourself. But you’re not going anywhere, and I believe it’ll be a long time until they serve chow at the Federal lock-up.”

  “I’m guessin’ you people want to eat?” he asked.

  Bonnie shrugged. Ralph nodded. I spoke.

  “I’m always hungry, and we can get Chinese delivered.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “You need a menu?”<
br />
  “You’re hot shit,” he said. “You want to put me away for life and buy me Chinese food.”

  “I have my good points.”

  He nodded. “How about sweet and sour chicken?”

  “Wouldn’t be my choice, but what the hell? Ralph, there’s a menu in the top right drawer of my desk. After you and Bonnie make a choice, ask Bettye to call with Ryan’s order and add home-style tofu for me. I’ll spring, of course.”

  Ralph frowned. “Tofu? You gotta be kidding.”

  I scowled. “Make the list, and get lost, kid.”

  Leary chuckled. He was beginning to loosen up. “While we’re waiting, I wouldn’t mind something to drink.”

  “I haven’t got any sweet tea for you Tennessee boys.”

  “I had something stronger in mind.”

  “I haven’t drunk any bourbon since 1969. Scotch suit you?”

  “Scotch’ll do.”

  “Ralph, hang on. It sounds like we’re going to have cocktails before lunch.”

  “Sure your lawyer will approve of us getting you half loaded before you make a statement?” Ralph asked.

  “I’m goin’ to have a drink or two, not get fallin’ down drunk.”

  “Okay,” I said, “will one of you mind going into the bottom right draw of my desk and getting the bottle of Glenfiddich? Glasses are in the cabinet below the coffee maker. There should be ice in the mini-fridge. Feel free to indulge if you’d like.”

  Ralph looked at Bonnie. “Come on, I’ll give you a hand.”

  She shook her head and addressed me. “He’s right, you are hot shit. I graduate from Law School and the FBI academy to be a cocktail waitress.”

  She turned and walked out. Ralph followed.

  “Some ass on that one,” Leary observed.

  “Yeah. Good-looking girl,” I said. “Good cop, too—for an FBI agent and lawyer.”

  He chuckled again. “You know, I told—” Leary frowned and paused. “I told the guy I’m going to tell you about, not to get anywhere near Prospect. I just knew that if you caught a case, you’d be like a nasty pit-bull until you cleared it.”

  I shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”