Murder on the Front Nine

by Steve McMillen

  He needs to call a cab but he does not want to use his cell phone because the authorities could trace the call back to him. He calmly walks into the bar and asks the bartender if he can use his phone to call a cab.

  The rather noisy, probably locals bar, becomes very quiet and everyone seems to be looking directly at him. He keeps his head lowered so no one can get a real good look at his face. The bartender is nice enough to call the number on a business card for him. Anchor Taxi says they will be there in about ten minutes. He quickly walks outside to wait.

  Once outside, he starts smiling because this reminds him of another night when he and a good friend were night fishing on a lake back in Greenville.

  They were teenagers and about 11:00pm, they were getting hungry. They paddled Bill’s Old Town flat bottom canoe over to the dock and walked up the stairs to what looked like a bar for a sandwich. As they walked inside the talking and noise stopped. It seemed as if everyone in the bar was looking at them. They decided to forgo the sandwich, bought two Snickers bars each and left. When they got outside, the talking and noise started again. They ran down the stairs to the canoe and never looked back.

  He wonders what ever happened to his friend Steve. They did a lot of fishing together when they were teenagers. He hasn’t seen him in years. The last he heard Steve was managing a bowling alley somewhere in Ohio.

  He brought along a map of Myrtle Beach so when the cab shows up, he gives the driver a street corner about three blocks away from the bus station. When they arrive, he pays the driver, while again keeping his head lowered so even if the driver wanted to he could not give a good description.

  As soon as the cab leaves, he walks to the bus station, goes into the restroom, reverses his sweatshirt and hat and then purchases a ticket to Culpepper.

  He arrives in Culpepper about 4:00 in the morning. He was in the back of the bus and slept most of the way. He was surprised that he could sleep at all. He has killed two men within the last month and one of them was a very good friend. He acted on his gut feeling and if he had waited to be sure, he may be dead right now. He did what he had to do and he will not look back. His entire life is now in front of him.

  He walks to the office, which is less than a mile from the bus station. He keeps a change of clothes and an electric razor there. He shaves and changes his clothes when he arrives. He takes a box, puts his personal things in and then along with his sniper rifle, transfers everything to the back of his SUV. He is glad he elected to meet Barry at the office.

  He goes into Barry’s office and finds every bit of information pertaining to the assassination of Trever Byers. He also gets everything he has on the killing and shreds it all.

  The first of their three employees begin arriving around 8:00AM. He is in his office waiting for he and Barry’s shared secretary, Robyn Pomroy, to get there, hopefully before the call comes about Barry.

  Robyn walks into his office looking a little bit surprised, “Aren’t we all bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and early today?”

  Bill looks up from his desk and says, “I’m sorry Robyn. I thought I told you, I’m leaving on vacation today.”

  “Well, if you’re going on vacation, what are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I just wanted to make sure I got these files to you before I left.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I think I’ll head west. Oh, and by the way, tell Barry he can always reach me on my cell phone if he needs me for anything.”

  “I’m surprised he’s not here, he usually gets in before you.”

  He says goodbye to Robyn and leaves the office. His duffel bag is packed and he is ready to leave town but he is not going west. He opts to head south. Maybe he will stop in Charleston and take Detective Susan B. Wallace up on her offer to have lunch. She sounds like someone he might like to get to know.

  He smashes his cell phone and throws it in the dumpster on the way to his vehicle. He will purchase a new phone later.

  Chapter 45: The Second Attack

  It’s around 10:15 at night and I am sitting in my recliner at home about half asleep and half-watching “CSI Miami.” I’m bushed; I have spent the last week meeting with Detective Concile trying to explain to her over and over why I shot and killed one of my army buddies who was planning to shoot me. Of course, Bill shot Barry but I don’t want her to know that, at least not yet.

  I hear sounds on my roof. Now I have heard sounds on my roof before, but they were always squirrels chasing each other. If this is a squirrel, it is a big-footed squirrel because it is making a whole lot of noise. My .45 is in a drawer in a stand next to my chair. I put it there after the shooting with Barry and Bill. I guess Pops has become paranoid in his old age, or maybe more careful is a better way to put it. Paula Ann would be proud of him.

  Now most people would just call 911 and hope the police would come and figure out what the problem is, but being the investigative person that I have become, I pass on 911.

  I quietly slip the .45 out of the drawer and put it in my waistband. As a civilian, I have always figured that it is better to have both hands free. There is less chance of shooting the wrong person or thing if you don’t have a loaded gun in your hand.

  All of the blinds and drapes in the house are closed. I started doing that at night recently where before I never closed anything. I open the drape covering the sliding door, which leads out to my screened-in porch, which then goes out to my deck. The noise has stopped. Maybe it was just a false alarm.

  I take out the rod used as a blocking lock, unlock, and open the sliding door. Everything is quiet, almost too quiet. I decide not to turn on the screened-in porch light but I do flip on one of the lights on the deck, which is under an eave. It is not a lot of light, only a forty-watt bulb, but just enough to light up most of my deck. I slowly move across the screened-in porch and unlatch the screen door leading to the deck.

  I have just recently oiled the hinges on the screen door with WD-40 so there is no noise as I cautiously open the door. As I step through the screen door, I hear a yelp from across the street. Blue must have gotten too close to his electric fence. You would think that dog would have learned by now how close he can get before he gets shocked.

  As I step out onto the deck, I know something is wrong. Except for the yelp from Blue, absolutely no sounds disturbed the night. It’s an old military feeling that you get when you know someone or something is out there with you. The hairs stand up on the back of my neck and a shiver goes through my entire body. I can feel my heart rate increase and the adrenalin begin to flow. It feels almost like a pinball machine but instead of tilt, tilt, tilt it is danger, danger, danger!

  Before I have time to draw the .45 from my waistband, jumping down from the roof is a person dressed entirely in black with a black ski mask covering his or her face. I know it’s not Barry. He is dead. If it wasn’t for the fact that this person has a 9mm Glock pointed at my head, he or she looks just like a Halloween ninja. I have no time to react. He, I finally notice a flat chest, motions for me to raise my hands.

  The next sound I hear is a loud growl and so does my adversary. We both turn our heads and see Blue standing at the top of the stairs leading up to my deck and he is not a happy camper. You could count the number of teeth in his mouth and his white Husky eyes are glowing in the faint light.

  As Blue lunges at the man dressed in black, he turns and fires his weapon. Blue goes down. This was all the time I needed. Pulling the trigger is never easy. The act comes with consequences, the fear of which can absolutely paralyze. However, without hesitation and without any demons, I react. I pull my .45 and as the man in black turns back to me, I do a deep knee bend and fire three times. He goes down and I feel a bullet pass very close to my cheek.

  I kick the gun away from the body lying on my deck and go over to Blue. He is still breathing. I rush inside to get my cell phone and call 911. I tell them a man and a dog have been shot and that I am more concerned for the dog.

  I have jus
t put my cell phone in my pocket when Jimmy comes bounding up the back stairs to my deck with his huge 44 in hand. “Mickke D, what the hell happened, I heard at least five gunshots.”

  “Jimmy, I’ll explain later, right now go across the street and tell Terri that Blue has been shot and we need to get him to the vet.”

  “You got it. Is that guy dead?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care, just go get Terri.”

  I had almost forgotten about the man in black. I go over and begin to pet Blue. He whimpers, tries to get up, but is unable to move.

  Jimmy and Terri are back in a matter of minutes and they have a large sheet with them. Terri says she has called the vet and he will meet them at the office. We put Blue on the sheet and I help them carry him to Terri’s SUV. I tell her that I will explain later and that I will pay the vet bill. Blue just saved my life.

  What is spooky about this whole thing is that as far as I know, Blue has never been in my yard, let alone on my deck. Yet he knew that I was in trouble and he came to help me. I’ll never refer to Blue as strange again. I owe him big time.

  I hear sirens coming down the street, all of my neighbors lights are on and people are standing around outside. After tonight, the neighborhood is probably going to ask me to move. This is far too much excitement for all of these retired folks. I have already heard rumors that my neighbors on the opposite side from Jimmy, Tom and Elaine, have ordered his and hers matching bulletproof vests for Christmas.

  The police and my old smiling friend, Detective Concile, with two other plain-clothes detectives are coming up the side entrance of the deck with guns drawn. I have put my weapon on the patio table in plain view and I have my hands in the air. I don’t want anyone with an itchy trigger finger thinking I am the bad guy.

  Before I have a chance to say anything, Sam says to me, “Mickke D, every time I see you, and thankfully this time you are dressed, something has either been blown up, burned down, or shot. I thought you told me you were a thoughtful, law-abiding citizen with no known enemies?”

  She has me there; I am not quite sure how to answer. “Well Detective Sam, I have no idea who that man is but he had a gun pointed at my head, it was self-defense. Oh, and by the way, he also shot my neighbor’s dog, which just happened to save my life or you would be out here looking at my body lying on the deck.”

  “My name is not Detective Sam, it’s Detective Concile.”

  The other two detectives later introduced as Woolever and Stratten look at each other and smile like Cheshire cats as Sam snaps off her reply.

  “Now can you get me some more light out here and where is the dog that was supposedly shot by this person?”

  “The dog’s owner and my neighbor took the dog to the vet,” I state as I go inside and turn on all of the deck and porch lights.

  “Where is the murder weapon?” one of the detectives asks.

  “The self-defense weapon is over there on the patio table and the perpetrator’s weapon is there on the deck. He fired twice and I fired three times.”

  “Looks like all three hit the target, this man is dead,” Sam says to no one in particular.

  She and the detectives roll the man over and pull off the black ski mask, “Do you know this man, Mickke D?”

  I look at the man’s face and I am speechless. He almost looks like Lucky, a soldier with the Colombian Army. He was with Mark and me on several raids against the cartel. If it is Lucky, why is he here? Furthermore, why did he want to kill me? I can feel the demons begin to churn in my head again.

  I look up at Sam and say, “Can we talk in private?”

  She replies, “Don’t tell me, it’s the husband of one of your ex wives.”

  “No I’m afraid not, but I need to tell you something off the record.”

  Sam agrees and we walk over to the patio table and sit down.

  “If I’m right, that man is a Colombian Army soldier who I trained probably eighteen years ago in Colombia. I was there doing secret black ops training for the Colombian Army. We raided and burned several large cocaine shipments of the cartel. The army shipped me back to the states because the cartel put a large bounty on my head. I have a funny feeling that bounty is still in effect.”

  “Wow, Mickke D, you do have a past after all,” she replies quietly, “So what do you want me to do?”

  “Well, I would sure like to keep this bounty thing a secret if I can. It’s bad enough I may have someone from Colombia trying to kill me, let alone half of South Carolina.”

  “Ok, I’ll keep this between us for the time being. I’ll see what we can find on this guy and let you know. However, in the meantime, you had better keep your head down; this guy may not be working alone. Do you want me to keep a couple of uniforms in the area for a couple of days just in case?”

  “That would be great and it would probably make my neighbors feel a little more secure. I think they’re all a bit jumpy right now.”

  Just as Sam and her people are leaving, Jimmy comes up the back stairs and gives me a thumbs up. Blue is going to be all right. The bullet just grazed his head. The vet said he should be up and about in a couple of days. If the man in black was Lucky, thank goodness, he never was a very good shot.

  I look out of my window several days later and there is Blue sitting by one of his holes with a bandage on his head looking for me. I go over with a treat and he hig fives me just like before.

  Terri comes into the garage and thanks me for paying Blue’s vet bill and she tells me that she and Blue will be moving to the south end of the beach in about two weeks. She has a new, better job and does not want to spend a lot of money on gas traveling back and forth, so she is moving in with one of her girlfriends. She writes down her new address and tells me I am welcome to visit Blue anytime.

  Blue and I sit in the shade of my live oak tree and watch the movers load furniture all day. Terri brought him over so he would not be in the way. He does not seem to be able to figure out what is going on but I sense that he is confused. When it is time for them to leave, Terri comes over to get Blue. I hand her his leash but he does not want to go. I tell him it will be okay and give him a big hug. Tears flow down my checks as I watch her put Blue in the back of her SUV. As they drive away, I wave and Blue puts his paw up to the back window and gives me a final high five It takes me weeks to get over Blue leaving. I hadn’t felt that bad when any of my three ex-wives left me.

  Sam found out the man in black was Lucky, that he had changed sides about six years ago, and that he had probably acted on his own. I asked her what she meant by probably and she said that was as good as it was going to get. She could not be sure. I took that to mean I could still be a target, so be careful.

  Chapter 46: Mickke D

  It has been almost two weeks since the last attempt on my life and since then I have made a few enemies. I called Dean Rutland to let him know that Barry was dead and that I had new information on the killing of Trever Byers. He threatened to have me thrown in jail but that probably won’t happen because now he is MIA. No one has seen or heard from him in more than a week. His apartment in D.C. and his house outside Culpepper are both empty. The police are leaning toward foul play. Personally, I think he skipped the country.

  Senator Brazile’s secretary is also missing and the senator claims to know nothing about either missing person even though they both were working for him.

  I figure it is time to give TC a final accounting of what I have discovered and who I think is responsible for Trever Byers’ death. I had e-mailed Mandi Lee several weeks ago and told her I thought Dean Rutland had probably ordered the hit on her husband.

  I send TC an e-mail with everything I have learned about how SIL hired Paul Hills to kill Trever. Next, SIL went after Paul to cover up their part in the killing. I believe Dean Rutland in Senator Brazile’s office hired SIL to make the hit.

  I tell him I do not believe Dean acted on his own but so far, I have been unable to find out who hired Dean. I do not think the senator ha
d anything to do with Trever’s murder. I would guess it was big oil but I have no hard evidence to back that up. There is no money trail, but I did find out that the report given to Senator Brazile was not the same report that Mandi Lee gave to Dean Rutland. I believe Dean changed the report to show a positive spin on offshore drilling instead of the negative spin from Trever. That alone would implicate big oil.

  I report to him that Rusty McRichards’ death was as reported in the paper, a hit and run. It had nothing to do with the murder of Trever Byers. The same goes for Freddy. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The twins and Cindy had nothing to do with the murder although they were with Freddy that night. They left town because the girls had been in trouble before and they would be prime suspects. The police found them in Virginia Beach but after signed depositions, they were not implicated.

  I also include a statement for my time and expenses. The next day I receive an e-mail from him thanking me for my help and that the check is in the mail. He also says to call him when I am ready to go treasure hunting.

  I call him the next day and tell him I am ready whenever he is. We pick a date and I ask what I should bring. He tells me he has everything we need. I ask about a wet suit but he says the water is very warm and we won’t need wet suits. I can hardly wait to get out on the ocean and forget about people trying to kill me. Not too long ago I was living a nondescript life and now I am investigating killings and ducking bullets. I’m beginning to think my three ex-wives were not so bad after all.

  Before I leave the house and travel to Pawleys Island, I grab my loaded .45 and two extra ammo clips. I am still concerned about the reward on my head from the Colombian Cartel. It’s better to be safe than sorry. I am looking forward to this treasure hunt. I haven’t spent much time on the water lately and at least it should be quiet, calm, and devoid of bad people.