by Thomas Scott
“Yes, sir, I’m afraid so. If you’ll pardon the question, how did you know?”
“My wife is in South Carolina on one of her mission trips. If it were her the call would come from the state police chaplain. If it were Cora, or perhaps any member of the House, Senate, or my cabinet, the call would come from Bradley. An act of terrorism in the city or anywhere in the state would prompt a call from the Indiana Director of Homeland Security. The fact that you are calling me means…well, it means I’m correct, aren’t I?”
“Yes, sir. I’m afraid so.”
“Just a moment, Jonesy.” Then Virgil heard him say, “Sandy, let me see your phone for a minute, will you?” After another brief pause he said, “Rich, yeah, it’s me. Are you guys sober? Okay. I need to be wheels up inside of sixty minutes for Indy. Can you make that happen? Good. See you then.
“Okay Virgil, I’m back. Tell me. Tell me everything.”
And that’s what Virgil did.
Ninety minutes later they got off the plane and came through the security gate next to the parking lot. Sandy gave Virgil a hug and a kiss.
“I brought your car,” Virgil said to Sandy. “The keys are in the ignition. We’ll be right there.”
When she turned her back the governor reached into his pocket and handed Virgil the ring. “I don’t think I’ve ever met two people who belong together more than you and Sandy. Everybody thinks that when they first get together, but with the two of you it’s actually true, right down to the core.”
Virgil stuck the ring in his pocket. “Thank you, Governor.”
He pointed his finger at him. “Don’t fuck it up.”
“No, Sir. I won’t.”
“Let’s go then. It’s late and I’ve got a long night ahead of me.”
Virgil and the governor tossed the bags in the trunk and the three of them piled into the car, the governor in the back seat. Virgil put the car in gear, touched eyes with the governor in the rearview mirror and said, “Office, or home, Sir?”
“Neither. Take me to Bradley’s house, Detective.”
They rode mostly in silence. The governor stared out the side window and watched the city lights move past. When he spoke it was mostly to himself. “He was…necessary. Guys like Pearson always are. Make no mistake, I knew what he was. He was a player, a manipulator, a backroom dealmaker and a political operator of the highest order. That’s not necessarily a compliment. He was all of those things but he was also my friend. We came up together. I wouldn’t be here without him, so it’s probably safe to say he wouldn’t be dead right now if it weren’t for me.”
Neither Virgil nor Sandy said anything in response and they all rode in silence the rest of the way to Pearson’s house. They were stopped a block away by two city squad cars parked nose-to-nose in the street. One of the officers made a motion with his hands, a back up and turn around motion, but Virgil crept forward anyway. The look of anger on the cop’s face was evident and when Virgil buzzed the window down he heard it in his voice as well. “What part of turn around and go the other way don’t you understand?”
“Back your car out of the way, Officer. We need to get through.”
The cop took a half step back and unsnapped his holster strap. “Sir, turn the car off and step out. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
The governor leaned forward from the back seat. “Remember when cops used to be the good guys, Jonesy? They used to be friendly and kind and considerate and helpful and caring. Serve and Protect used to mean they served and protected us. Now if you don’t do exactly what they say when they say it, you get a gun in your face. What’s wrong with people anymore?”
“I’m not sure, Governor.”
“Neither am I. It’s less than a block. I think I’ll walk from here.”
The cop had drawn his weapon. “Sir. I will not ask you again. Step from the vehicle. Now.”
“Pearson wouldn’t kill himself. Not in a million years. Suicides are cowards. Everyone knows that. No matter what you or anyone thought of Bradley Pearson, I can tell you this, he was many things but he was not a coward. I expect you to find who did this. Do you hear me, Virgil? You. I expect you to do it. You’ll have the full weight and support of my office, badge or no badge. Anything you need.”
“Yes, Sir.”
McConnell opened the back door, got out and walked up to the city cop. “My name is Hewitt McConnell. I’m the Governor of the State of Indiana. Bradley Pearson was my chief of staff and my friend. I’m going to walk up to his house now and I don’t need or require your permission. Before I do though, let me ask you this: what is your name, young man?”
Regardless of the circumstances Virgil had to smile when he saw the look on the cop’s face. He turned the car around and drove home.
29
Virgil pulled the car into the garage and moved to grab Sandy’s bags from the trunk, but she stopped him before he got the lid open. “Later,” she said. “Let’s sit and unwind a little, if that’s okay. I’d like to talk to you about something. It’s important.”
“Sure. Why don’t you head down by the pond? I’ll grab us a couple of Red Stripes and be right there.”
“Hmm, it’s pretty late. Just water for me.”
“No problem. I’ll be right down.”
Virgil grabbed two beers for himself and a couple of bottles of water for Sandy, put them into a small cooler with ice and went down to the pond.
He had the ring in his pocket and his future wife was waiting for him.
He handed Sandy a bottle of water, opened a beer for himself, lit a fire in the pit and then sat down next to her. “It sounds like you’ve had a busy couple of days,” she said.
Before he could even respond his phone rang. “Sorry,” Virgil said.
“It’s okay. A lot going on. Go ahead and take it.”
Virgil looked at the screen before he answered. “Hello, Cora. Thanks for calling back.”
“Would you kindly tell me just what in the hell you were thinking?”
“Is there any chance that you could be a little more specific?”
“Who takes it upon themselves to pick up the phone and call the most powerful man in the state while he is out of town on official state business and inform him of the death of one of his closest advisors? Who transports him around in their personal vehicle without protection, all while bypassing standard emergency protocols—protocols I might add, that you happen to be intimately familiar with? If that’s not enough for you, who in their right mind lets the governor of the state of Indiana out of the car and lets him walk a full city block through a residential neighborhood, right out in the open past God knows how many media people and onto a crime scene in the middle of the night? Who does all of that? Have you lost your mind?”
“My first call was to you, Cora. I got your voicemail. I left you a message to call me, or preferably Ron Miles just as soon as possible. Have you spoken to Ron? Based on your attitude and your characterization of the governor’s actions over the last half hour or so, I’d say you have.”
“You would be mistaken. I was at the movies. When I walked outside after the show and turned my phone on it was already ringing. I found out about your little clusterfuck from the governor himself when he called me.”
“My clusterfuck? How exactly does this land in my lap?”
“It lands in your lap exactly this way: You and your partner broke into a private residence, destroyed a crime scene and obliterated any chance of gathering meaningful and untainted forensic evidence directly related to what may turn out to be a capital murder case, the victim being one of the highest ranking officials in the state.”
“It was a judgment call, Cora. There was a very real possibility that Pearson wasn’t dead, but gravely injured. Murton and I gained entry into the residence, discovered his body, cleared the house, backed out and made the appropriate calls. One of those calls was to the governor. He asked me to pick him up at the airport. What would you have done?”
�
��Don’t you question me. You are in no position whatsoever to—”
“Cora?”
“WHAT?”
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I mean what’s wrong between you and me? I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to repair our relationship. I’ve made some mistakes, I realize that and I’m doing everything I can to make that right. But my mistakes…they were in my personal life and I don’t know why you’ve been so angry with me. Help me understand what it is. Tell me what to do to make it right and I promise you I’ll do everything I can to fix it.”
She hung up without responding.
Virgil was so caught up in his conversation with Cora that he’d failed to notice Sandy as she stood from her chair. After Cora hung up, he turned and looked at her just as she was coming out from underneath the branches of the willow tree. “What the heck is this?” she said.
She held a packaged toy fishing pole in her hands. It was the same toy pole that the young boy, Wyatt, had been carrying when Virgil had encountered him in the park. The same pole that he had dropped on the hill before he ran off...the same pole Virgil had carried back to his truck. Earlier in the day the tow-truck driver had given Virgil his card with a cell phone number on the back. He punched in the number and waited for the connection to go through.
“Virgil, what’s going on? Sandy said.
“I’m sorry, baby, this will only take a second.”
Virgil got the driver on the phone and asked him to check the truck. A few minutes later he came back on the line with an answer Virgil didn’t know how to process.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. I’m sorry Mr. Jones, but it’s not there. I looked under the seat and behind it, too. Nothing on the floor or in the bed. If you think the fault is ours, we’ve got insurance to cover this sort of thing.”
“No, no, that’s all right. I’m sure I must have misplaced it. Thank you.”
Virgil took the pole from Sandy and examined it carefully. There was no question in his mind that it was the same one Wyatt had carried in the park, the same one he’d taken with him in his truck. Try as he might though, he could not remember if he had seen the pole anywhere inside the truck when he and Murton drove to the industrial park, or to Brackett’s house. He set the pole in the grass. “Let’s sit down.”
“You didn’t answer me. What’s with the toy pole? Getting back to basics?” Sandy said with a smile on her face.
“Maybe.”
“I’ve got something I need to tell you, Virgil. It’s important. Can we turn the phones off and put all the drama of Pearson and the governor and Cora and everything else aside for a few minutes?”
The night was one of the most beautiful summer nights Virgil could remember. A blue moon hung full and bright in the sky, the air was still, the tree frogs were croaking, the bass and bluegill were feeding across the surface of the pond, the fire light flickered around them and as he glanced at the toy fishing pole at their feet, Virgil suddenly knew what Sandy was going to tell him.
“Do you trust me?” Virgil said.
“Of course I do. You know that.”
“I have something too. To tell you…ask you. I’d like to go first.”
Sandy let her eyelids droop. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I had all these different scenarios laid out. All kinds of different ideas and plans, some of them simple, some of them grand, but they all seemed so…contrived.” He got down on both knees in front of her. “This one isn’t. This is me, Virgil Francis Jones, talking to Andrew Small’s daughter. I’ve waited my entire life for you, Sandy. I know I’ve put you through hell these last few weeks and months, but if you ever find yourself doubting or wondering how much I love you, all you’ll ever have to do is remember this very moment. I love you, Sandy. With my whole heart, I love you.” He pulled the ring out of his pocket and held it out to her in the soft glow of the firelight. “Will you marry me?”
Sandy took the ring from his hand, held it in the light for a moment, smiled in a melancholy sort of way and then closed it inside her fist. “Virgil, it’s beautiful and I love you. I do. I know you know that. But…”
And Virgil thought, oh no…
“I can’t answer you,” Sandy said. “At least not yet. You should have let me go first. I have to tell you something and it matters, Virgil. It matters more than anything else you and I have ever been through. It wouldn’t change my answer, nothing could. But I have to know if it would change the question.”
“Sandy…”
“No, Virgil, you’ve got to let me say it. I don’t think it will affect your proposal, but I can’t live my life wondering. I can’t answer you until you hear what I have to say.”
“Would you be upset if I told you I already knew?”
Sandy made a funny noise with her lips. “No, I wouldn’t, because you don’t know this.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You couldn’t possibly, Virgil. Nobody knows. I haven’t told a soul.”
Interesting choice of words, Virgil thought.
“I’m pregnant, Virgil.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hard on the lips. “I know, baby, I know. I don’t think I’ve known for long, but I have known. I just wasn’t paying close enough attention.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“It will be a boy. We’ll name him Wyatt. He’ll have one blue eye from you and one green eye from me. I’ll teach him to fish right here in this pond and you’ll show him how to love and be loved, just like you’ve taught me.”
“How did you know? I didn’t even know until earlier today.”
Sandy’s back was to the willow tree. A moment ago, just before he’d gotten down on his knees, Virgil saw his father as he stood behind Wyatt, his hands on his grandson’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure what would happen, but he took the chance. “Turn around and look at the tree.”
30
They slept late the next morning and probably would have slept later were it not for the buzzing noise Virgil’s phone was making on the nightstand. He rolled over, hit the button and said, “What?”
“Good morning to you too, Jones-man.”
“What is it, Murt? I had sort of a late night last night.”
“Yeah, me too. As a matter of fact, I haven’t been to sleep yet. I hung out most of the night with the crime scene weenies while they did the GSR tests on Pearson. He fired the gun all right. Had powder residue all over him. His prints were the only ones on the weapon, too. Here’s something else…you know those sirens we heard last night? The flashing lights from a block or two over?”
“Yeah.”
“That was from a shooting as well. Want to guess who the victim was? No? Okay. It was Abigail Monroe. They found some brass at the scene. According to the preliminary report she was shot with the same gun that Pearson used on himself.”
Sandy got out of bed, went into the bathroom and closed the door. Virgil thought he heard her vomit. “They’re sure?”
“According to Mimi—and let me just say, wow, what a voice on that broad—it’s about a ninety-eight percent certainty. Firing pin and ejection port markings are exact.”
Virgil hit the speaker button and let the phone rest on his chest. “So Pearson goes after Monroe, shoots her in the back, then goes back to his place and kills himself? The governor isn’t going to accept that, Murt.”
“He won’t have to. I had a little chat with the medics. She never made it to the hospital…she ended up DOA, but she was semiconscious, sort of in and out of it on the ride there. The medic said she kept saying ‘pain’ like she was really hurting, which you would expect from someone shot in the back multiple times. He told me he was pumping her full of morphine just as fast as he could get it into the syringe. In fact, he was giving her so much that he had to call in to the hospital docs while they were still en route to get permission to give her more.”
“So?”
“So thanks to lawyers everywhere, no one wants to get sued over bad advice or miscommunication. The hospitals are required to digitally record those transmissions. I drove over to the hospital, made some noise and got them to let me listen to the tape. You can hear Monroe in the background. She wasn’t saying ‘pain.’ She was saying ‘Pate.’ I think Pate murdered Pearson, Jonesy. Miles agrees with me.”
“What’d you do with the recording?”
I had the hospital’s IT guy make two copies. I’ve got one, the hospital has the other and Miles has the original. The search warrants are already being served for Augustus Pate and Hector Sigara. Dying declaration. They’ll both go down for multiple murders.”
“That’s great work, Murt. Top notch.”
“Ah, I got lucky, that’s all. I think we’ve built up some good will with Miles and his department though, not to mention the governor himself.”
“Since you’re on such a roll, how about you go find Nichole Pope. I’d like to ask her a few questions.” Sandy came out of the bathroom, naked as the day she was born—though clearly more developed—and hopped back into bed. She took the phone, said “Hi, Murton. This morning he’s mine. See you at one.” Then she hung up.
“Want a little morning fun? We won’t have to worry about me getting pregnant.”
“Are you up for it? I thought I heard you getting sick in there.”
“I did, but just a little. Right now I feel fine.”
“Hmm, you did brush your teeth, didn’t you?”
Women, it seemed, enjoyed punching Virgil.
Virgil spent the rest of the day preparing for the party. He went to the grocery store, bought burgers and brats for the grill, a large bag of charcoal, buns, and a case of Mountain Dew. Then because it was Sunday in Indiana, he stopped at the bar and grabbed three cases of beer, a large bottle of Appleton Estate rum and four large bags of ice.
