And whoever had killed her had taken it from the woman.
“OH MY GOD. You did what?”
Jamison was sitting in the driver’s seat of their rental SUV staring at Decker like he had just told her that he’d been the one who’d murdered Irene Cramer.
“Didn’t you hear me the first time?” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “The killer was obviously attempting to get something back that Cramer had ingested.”
“Look, despite what you found, that theory seems a little farfetched.”
“Drug mules do that all the time. They either stuff plastic bags of drugs up their anuses, or else they swallow them.”
“And very often the bags burst and the person dies when all those drugs enter their body.” She glanced sharply at him. “Is that what you think? That she was a drug runner?”
“That would be the easy answer, but I’m not sure it would be the right one,” he replied. “And there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Why didn’t Walt Southern highlight this fact for us? It was literally buried in his report. And there were no pictures of the cuts to those organs. And when I asked him if there was anything out of the ordinary, he replied in the negative.”
“You think he didn’t believe it was important?”
“Any pathologist worth his or her salt knows about contraband being carried in the body.”
“I guess that is odd. So what do you think?”
“Did he intentionally not highlight it, or take pictures, thinking we would just take his word and not look too closely at the pathology report?”
“But why would he do that? Wait, do you think he killed her? That would explain the way she was cut up. He would have just performed two autopsies on her.”
“Southern cutting her up like that would be really the only way we would suspect someone like him. So why would he do it that way, unless he wants to be caught?”
“No, I don’t see that happening, either,” commented Jamison.
“So let’s go back to the question of what she might have been carrying inside her.”
“I guess we could hearken back to the days of the Cold War. She could be a spy and swallowed a microfiche dot loaded with government secrets.”
When Decker didn’t respond to this, she added, “I’m just kidding. She’s too young to have been part of the Cold War.”
“But why wouldn’t that be plausible? We have a pretty sensitive government facility right in the neighborhood.”
Jamison said slowly, “Since we don’t know her past, it could be she was a spy.”
“And maybe the reason she came here was to spy on the Douglas S. George Defense Complex. But she’s been here a year,” he added, looking puzzled.
“Meaning what took her so long?” said Jamison.
Decker nodded.
“How . . . was doing what . . . what you did?” she asked.
“I never want to do it again.”
“So what now?”
“Bogart hasn’t gotten back to me. If we can’t get at her past from the Bureau’s side, we need to try from another angle. She was here a year. Someone might have seen or heard something suspicious about the lady.”
“So, we talk to people? But we already did that.”
“I think some of the people we’ve talked to have been less than forthcoming. And Colonel Sumter was stonewalling us the whole way.”
“But how do we get him to talk? He has the DoD behind him. He has to follow orders.”
“I’m not sure. So for now we keep pushing ahead on other paths. We met one local titan with Stuart McClellan. Maybe we should meet the other.”
“Caroline’s dad? I guess he might know something useful.”
“Well, for one thing, he was the one to hire Hal Parker to get the wolf that had killed his cattle. So the body was presumably found on his property.”
“Do you think he knew Irene Cramer?”
“That’s one of the first things I’m going to ask him.”
* * *
They got Kelly to join them and he gave directions to Hugh Dawson’s estate.
Kelly eyed Decker, who sat in the front seat next to Jamison. “So why the interest in Dawson? You never said.”
“We’re just trying to get the lay of the land at this point.”
“Okay, that really tells me nothing.”
Jamison added, “We’re not trying to play coy, Joe. We’re looking around for some traction on this case. We’ve talked to the military and the Brothers and people who knew Cramer. We talked to Caroline Dawson and we ran into the McClellans, so we’re rounding it out with Hugh Dawson.”
“When did you see the McClellans?”
“At the restaurant at our hotel,” replied Jamison.
“Both of them?”
He sounded so puzzled that Decker turned to look at him. “Yeah. Why? Is that unusual?”
Kelly shrugged. “Stuart, as a rule, doesn’t frequent places owned by Hugh Dawson.”
“And the son?” asked Jamison. “Shane McClellan looked to me like he was head over heels for Caroline.”
“Shane’s a nice guy. Not what you would call an intellectual, but he’s got a good heart.” He added in a more subdued tone, “And you’re right, he’s got it bad for Caroline. Has since we were kids.”
“But that would be a problem, considering the fathers are business rivals,” noted Decker.
“Sounds like Romeo and Juliet,” interjected Jamison.
“Or the Hatfields and McCoys,” replied Decker.
“I think you might be closer to the mark with that one,” said Kelly. “But though they don’t get along, and they are sort of in a pissing contest like Ida Simms said, they’re not exactly true rivals either. Hugh’s businesses service Stuart’s workers. That actually helps both of them.”
“And what about Shane’s mother?” asked Jamison.
“Katherine McClellan died a while back. Cancer. She and Shane were really close. A lot closer than he and his old man. After that, it was just Shane and his father. Not the best of situations. Katherine acted as a buffer between the two. After she was gone, well, it wasn’t pretty.”
“Sounds complicated,” said Jamison.
Kelly nodded. “It is.”
“I take it you and Shane are friends. You’re close to the same age.”
“We all went to high school together. Caroline too. Yeah, we were all good friends. Pretty much inseparable.”
“Getting back to the case, Hal Parker was hired by Hugh Dawson,” said Decker. “To hunt down a wolf?”
“Yep.”
“Wolves are a problem around here?”
“They certainly can be. Them and wild dogs. Coyotes, mountain lions. They can devastate a herd.”
“What else can you tell us about Hugh Dawson?” asked Decker. “You said he was big and gregarious but could take your head off if need be.”
“That’s pretty much all you need to know about the man. I’ll leave it to you to form your own impression when you meet him.”
“And you said his wife died in an accident?” said Jamison.
Kelly nodded. “It was really tragic. The worst sort of accident, because it was like a perfect storm of connected events. Maddie Dawson was caught in her car in a blizzard and died from carbon monoxide poisoning.” Kelly shook his head. “Fortunately, she probably would have gone unconscious before she knew what was happening. Still a helluva way to go.”
“Yeah,” said Decker. “But a lot better than what happened to Irene Cramer.”
“IT LOOKS LIKE the house on the TV show Dallas, only twice the size.”
Jamison made this comment as she drove them up a long cobblestone driveway that was bracketed by two rows of large trees with full, leafy canopies.
“Where does Stuart McClellan live?” asked Decker.
“He has an apartment in a building in downtown London.”
“An apartment?” said Jamison. “Isn’t he richer than Dawson?”
“He’s been through so many booms and busts that I think he now hedges his bets.”
“And his son?”
“Shane has a little farmhouse and some land on the western edge of the county. Bought the place right after he came back.”
“Came back from where?” asked Jamison.
“Fighting overseas. He was in the army. Joined up right after he graduated from high school. He likes it simple. Hunts during the season, drinks his beer, works for his old man, gets yelled at for not doing it well enough, and tries to enjoy life. It’s no secret the father doesn’t think the son is up to taking over his fracking operations.”
“And what do you think?” said Jamison.
“Shane’s no dummy and he works hard. We’ve hunted together a lot. He’s sharp, methodical, and knowledgeable about stuff he cares about. He just doesn’t care for business. It’s not how he’s wired.”
They parked in front of the house and got out. Kelly led the way up the steps to the double front door.
“So what will it be for us?” asked Decker. “Gregarious, or do we get a knife in the back?”
“All depends on what and how you ask him, I guess.”
“Well, knowing Decker’s tact, let’s prepare for the shiv to the spine,” said Jamison, with a sly smile at her partner.
The door was answered by a woman in a maid’s uniform. After Kelly showed his badge, she stepped back so they could pass through. She led them down a hall with ash plank flooring to a set of oak double doors.
Inside the room, the man who rose from behind a large desk was nearly as tall as Decker, but far thinner with narrow hips. His brown, wavy hair had a thick shock of gray in the front. He was clean-shaven, with a nose that had been broken and healed slightly off center. He was dressed in an untucked white shirt and black jeans. When he moved around the desk with his hand outstretched to Kelly, Decker noted the dark blue slippers on the man’s feet with a D monogrammed on them. The walls were festooned with the heads of unfortunate creatures who had had their mortal remains fashioned into showpieces.
“Joe, how the hell are you? Been a while.”
Kelly shook his hand and then introduced Decker and Jamison to Hugh Dawson.
They all sat in front of an empty stone fireplace and Kelly said, “Thanks for meeting with us. Guess you’ll be heading out of the country in a month or so.”
Dawson looked at Decker and Jamison. “I used to laugh at the snowbirds who would head south for the winter. Then a number of years ago, Maddie suggested we start spending the winters in Australia when it’s their summer. We rented a place near the water. After she passed, I kept going. We had some really wonderful times down there.”
“Memories like that are important,” said Jamison. “Like therapy.”
“Yes they are. Now, I understand a woman was murdered. And Hal Parker found her.”
“He was out looking for a wolf,” said Jamison.
“That damn thing had already killed two of my cows. Hired Hal to get rid of it.”
“How do you know it was a wolf?” asked Decker.
“They finally found the carcass with Hal’s bullet in it. So who was it that got killed again?”
“A woman named Irene Cramer,” said Kelly. “Thought you would have known that. We released her name.”
In answer Dawson pointed to his desk that was stacked with three-ring binders. “I’m up to my eyeballs in financial stuff. Working on some big deals. I haven’t watched or listened to the news for a while.”
“But you knew of the murder, obviously,” said Decker.
“I knew because Hal told me.”
“So you didn’t know her?” asked Decker.
He shook his head. “Used to be I knew everybody around these parts. Now, too many people coming in. I’m not complaining. It’s good for business.”
“Irene Cramer worked as the teacher at the Brothers’ school,” said Kelly.
“The Brothers? I do business with them. Their word is their bond.”
“What about the military installation?” asked Decker.
Dawson’s eyes narrowed. “London Air Force Station? What about it?”
“Do you do business with them, too?”
“Sure. Their folks come to town and frequent my places, and we provide some of their supplies. Why?”
Decker shrugged. “It’s a murder investigation. We ask questions about everybody.”
Dawson glanced at Kelly. “But why do the Feds get called in on a local murder?”
Kelly said, “We always appreciate the help.”
Dawson eyed him skeptically. “And I can sell you the Brooklyn Bridge.”
“We met your daughter,” interjected Jamison. “You must be very proud of her.”
Dawson grinned. “She’s gonna be running the world before long. She’ll leave what I did in the dust when all is said and done.”
“She’s dating a man named Stan Baker,” said Decker. “We met him, too.”
The light seemed to dim in Dawson’s eyes. “Is that right? Well, I keep out of that. She’s grown and can make her own decisions, especially when it comes to men.”
Jamison said, “Wow, I wish my father would be as enlightened. I’m in my thirties and I still get detailed emails and phone calls about my personal relationships.”
Dawson grinned. “Oh, I tried to poke my nose in here and there. The fourth time it got chopped off, I said, okay, I’m done here. Not worth it.” His expression darkened. “Then after Maddie died . . .” An awkward silence persisted until he said, “Anything else you folks want to ask me?” He glanced at the papers on his desk.
“We understand that your son committed suicide,” said Decker.
Dawson immediately tightened. “He took the coward’s way out, yeah. But what the hell does that have to do with anything,” he snapped, glowering at Kelly, who looked taken aback by Decker’s comment.
Decker said, “We also understand that you and Stuart McClellan are best friends.”
Dawson looked wildly at Decker for a few moments, and then burst out laughing. “Okay, I didn’t figure you for having a sense of humor. Fact is, that’s been blown way out of proportion. I’m not saying the guy and I will be going on vacation together anytime soon. But the town is booming and we’re both making money hand over fist. And we don’t compete. We’re more complementary.” His tone became more businesslike. “But this has nothing to do with a gal being murdered, right?”
“Like I said, we ask lots of questions in the hope of finding a path forward.”
“Sounds to me like you’re trying to dig through mud to get to the gold.”
“It always seems that way right before you hit the mother lode,” replied Decker.
Jamison said, “We met Stuart McClellan and his son, Shane. Your daughter was there, too. At the hotel where we’re staying. It’s one of your places.”
“Okay, so?” said Dawson.
“Any idea why the McClellans would be there?” asked Jamison. “Caroline seemed surprised that they were.”
“It’s a free country. They can go where they want.” He grinned. “And, hell, I don’t mind old Stuart putting some cash in my pocket.”
“Shane seemed quite smitten with Caroline,” pointed out Jamison.
Dawson stood. “Well, it was nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
The others stood, too, but Decker remained seated.
“Your daughter was making an offer to buy the apartment building where Irene Cramer lived. Did you know about that?”
“Caroline doesn’t have to come to me for every little thing. We are trying to acquire properties. And now’s a good time to do it. Stuff is still relatively cheap.”
“But you’d think prices would be going up in a boom,” said Jamison.
“It was booming last time, too. And then in a few years everything went to hell.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “What do you folks know about fracking?”
Jamison said, “Just what we re
ad in the papers, so not much.”
“We produce more oil than any other state except Texas. But with fracking there are two downsides. First is, you get overwhelmed by the people coming in for the good-paying jobs, and drugs, prostitution, and other crime and shit like that goes through the roof. And you can’t build the homes, schools, roads, and stores and all the other stuff people want fast enough. Then there’s the second downside. You get busts. Last time oil prices went through the floor overnight and stayed there because OPEC increased production to drive the frackers out of business. Then everything around here shut down, and I mean everything. I got close to losing every nickel I had. But that’s also how McClellan really solidified his hold on the shale land around here.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jamison.
“When the fracking industry really came into vogue a while back, the big boys came up here loaded for bear. And they gobbled up all the available leases and paid top dollar for them. But with the bust cycle, they fell by the wayside and McClellan bought up their leases for pennies on the dollar. And he has his business model all squared away, so apparently no more booms and busts for him.”
Jamison said, “That still doesn’t answer my question about the prices around here now.”
“Well, despite McClellan’s operations being in good shape, people are getting damn nervous, waiting for the rug to get pulled out again. So it creates opportunities for those with a healthier appetite for risk.”
“But you almost pulled out a few years ago,” commented Kelly.
Dawson glared at him. “Maddie didn’t want to live here anymore. She’d been through hell and back with me. The last bust came, but then things started picking up again. But she’d had enough by then. She wanted out come hell or high water. We had a few dollars left. So we were going to buy a little villa in France and spend our golden years there. But then—”
“We understand she died in an accident,” said Jamison.
He nodded. “I was out of the country and she ran off the road during a blizzard. She didn’t realize that the rear of the car had run up against a berm. It had bent her tailpipe and clogged it,” said Dawson, the misery clear in his eyes. “She breathed in all that crap. And . . . died.”
Walk the Wire Page 9
