by Thomas Scott
Rosencrantz looked at Virgil and held up his finger in a ‘wait a minute’ gesture. He belly crawled forward another foot or so to a gap between two boards of the outside wall. He looked into the gap and saw Conrad just behind a vertical beam, his rifle pointed straight out the door. He pulled his head away, nodded at Virgil, then looked back through the hole.
Virgil understood. Rosencrantz had him spotted. He moved forward until he was right at the edge of the door.
“I understand that, Vern. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. People under stress react differently than they might otherwise. Sort of like right now. If you say it was an accident, I believe you. We can fix this whole mess if you’ll just put the gun down and come on out before anyone gets hurt.”
But Conrad had already made his choice. He cycled the bolt action on his rifle and reversed it in his hands, his thumb now inside the trigger guard. Rosencrantz saw what was about to happen. He yelled “Go!” to Virgil and jumped up.
Virgil spun inside the door just in time to see Vernon Conrad shoot himself under the chin. His head jerked back and his arms flew out away from his sides as he fell to the ground. He landed on his back like he was about to make a snow angel in the dirt, the top half of his head gone, the back wall of the barn painted in red.
Holden made the radio call, then sat in his wagon, his left leg extended out straight, his knee swollen tight inside his uniform pants. Virgil walked over and stuck his head down inside the door. “You okay, Sheriff?”
When Holden didn’t answer, Virgil tried a little diplomacy. It was genuine. “You did a great job, Ben. You said you weren’t a negotiator but that was pretty amazing what you just did. We got a confession by way of a dying declaration.”
The sheriff turned his head slowly and looked up at Virgil. “You call that a nice job? The man just blew his brisket across the hayloft. He lost his farm and the only woman he ever loved. He beat his business partner half to pulp, an action that led directly to his own death. On a more personal note, that’s the second friend I’ve lost in just over a week. No offense, Detective, but I’d call it anything but a nice job.”
“They did it to each other, Ben.”
The sheriff looked away and didn’t say anything else.
24
The next morning they all crowded into the conference room just down the hall from Virgil’s office. Coffee and doughnuts and juice and fresh fruit were on the table. The group consisted of every single person who knew Martha Esser was dead…every cop, all the hospital employees who’d had any interaction involving her care…the nurses, doctors, rehab staff, the medical examiner, all the crime scene techs, Sheriff Holden from Shelby County, and the assistant district attorney.
There were so many people in the room that all the seats were taken and a couple of the crime scene techs went out in search of folding chairs. Virgil wasn’t there yet and they were all waiting on him.
The techs came back a few minutes later with a couple of armfuls of folding chairs and everyone settled in and waited. The doctors kept looking at their watches. “Well, we’re all here as promised. Anybody have any idea why?” one of them said.
“Maybe he’s going to give us a medal or some shit,” one of the crime scene techs said. That got a small chuckle from everyone.
Sheriff Holden popped a giant strawberry in his mouth and packed it into the side of his cheek. “I doubt it,” he said. “Every time I’m around the guy, someone ends up dead.”
That ended the chuckling. A nervous sort of quiet settled over the room, like they were all together in a crowded elevator. They sat and waited.
Virgil, with the help of Murton and Rosencrantz had spent most of the previous evening working the phones in order to get everyone there. Didn’t tell them why, other than to say it was part of the ongoing investigation. A few of them didn’t like it, but they all eventually agreed to come in. He emphasized the timing of it all. It was critical that they be on time. He secretly enjoyed the fact that the doctors were waiting on him. Rosencrantz popped his head in the doorway and said, “They’re all here. Waiting on you, big guy.”
“What about Becky?”
“Haven’t seen her yet. Any minute, I’d guess.”
“I’m right behind you,” she said to Rosencrantz. “I need a minute with Jonesy, if you don’t mind.”
“No problem,” he said as he turned to leave. Then he saw the look on Becky’s face and stopped. “Hey, Becky…are you okay?”
Becky visibly swallowed, nodded and put her hand on Rosencrantz’s shoulder. “I’m fine. I’ll tell you what I really am is tired. Up all night researching for this one.” She tipped her chin at Virgil.
“He is a slave driver,” Rosencrantz said. Then to Virgil: “Anyway, the conference room…”
“Be right there.”
He looked at everything Becky handed him. “You’re sure about this? Decker is Jonas’s father?”
“Yep.”
Virgil couldn’t quite believe it. “You’re saying that Pam Donatti and John Decker had an affair and Jonas is their child?”
“Yes, Jonesy…that’s exactly what I’m saying. You can keep asking the question, but the answer isn’t going to change. He filed the paperwork with the state. Pam had a copy of it at home. I pulled it from the evidence room. No one had seen it yet because they’re still inventorying everything they took from the house. Short of a DNA test, that’s as good as it gets. With Pam dead, he not only gets custody, he gets the pension money.”
Virgil held up the custody paperwork. “You’re sure about this?”
“One hundred percent,” Becky said.
“How did you find it?”
“I almost didn’t. It was wiped off the system, but whoever did it either didn’t get to the backups or didn’t have the clearance and couldn’t get in. I only had to go back a couple of days and it was right there.” Becky caught the look on his face. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking he never could have pulled it off by himself. This isn’t just Decker. He’s had help all along, and I think I know who it is. I’ve known it from the start, I just didn’t realize it.”
“Who?”
“It’s Decker’s boss, Kreg Gordon. Mac wanted us on this from the get-go and Cora never did tell us why. She just let us believe the obvious. But Gordon has been after Mac in every way possible. And Mac drops in on me and Murt and sends us to Shelby County to track down a missing farmer?”
“Are you saying Mac knows more than he’s telling us?”
“I think Mac always knows more than he tells. He’s a master politician. I don’t think he knew anything about Decker, but he knew Gordon was involved somehow because he was the one pushing for the fracking deal, something that Mac was adamantly opposed to.”
“So he’s killing two birds with one stone,” Becky said. “He gets Gordon off his back and stops the fracking ops in Shelby County.”
“He’s no dummy, our governor. He comes off as this affable sort of goof—charming and even a little…thick sometimes. But he’s not. He’s ten steps ahead of everyone in the room.”
“And he’s using you and Murt to do his dirty work.”
Virgil sucked in his cheeks. “That’s the job, Becky. I wouldn’t call it dirty work either. He pointed us at a crime and told us to solve it. It looks like we’re almost there.”
“At what cost? What if Murt gets hung out to dry?”
“That won’t happen, Becky. I guarantee it.”
“Says the guy who got fired by the same man we’re talking about right now.”
“Different set of circumstances back then, Becks.”
“And a different guy to take the fall now,” Becky said.
Virgil shook his head. “Look Becky, I know the man. We have a history. He’ll back Murt. I know he will.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Virgil changed directions. “Let me ask you this: What if someone realizes their mistake and tries to go in and rewrite or o
verwrite or whatever you call it?”
“The backups? Give a girl some credit, will you? It won’t do them any good. I put a little code in there. If they try, it will just make another copy. Plus I downloaded a digital copy for safekeeping.”
“Is that…can you…?” Virgil stopped himself. “I probably don’t want to hear anymore, do I?”
“Mmm, probably not. Virgil?”
“Yes, Becky?”
“You needed absolute proof to get to Decker, and to get Murton out from under these charges. I just handed it to you. Those are official state documents. They’re straight out of the state’s court system, sitting behind one of the lamest firewalls I’ve ever encountered. Murt’s in the clear, and you’ve got your killer. How about you go pick him up and we can all get on with our lives?”
Virgil picked up the phone and called the trooper who currently had Decker. “He still there?”
“Yep.” It was the young trooper. The kid. “He must have taken a sick day or something because he didn’t leave for work this morning.”
Virgil felt a thump in his chest. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. I was in place and watched him come home last night. His car’s still there and I’ve been sitting by the window all night. You getting ready to move?”
“Yeah…won’t be long now. There’s a press conference about to start and we’re going to take him right after that. In fact, be ready to run. If he’s watching, I expect him to panic and make a run for it.”
There was a moment of silence and Virgil caught it. “What?”
“Well, I was just thinking that you might have filled a guy in, is all.”
“That’s what I’m doing now. Can you see the entrance to the park from your position?”
“Hold on.” Ten seconds later the trooper was back. “Old school…but nice. I appreciate the subtleness. Nobody does that anymore. Now it’s all armored vehicles and flash-bangs and—”
“Glad you approve, Trooper.” Virgil had a SWAT team positioned at the entrance. They were disguised as a water and sewer crew. “Listen, I’m on the clock here. Set your radio to SWAT’s frequency and be ready.”
He ended the call and went back to Becky. “Are you sure you don’t mind covering Jonas for us? Murt said you’d be fine with it, but I want to make sure you are too. There’s just about zero chance that anything could happen…and I really do mean that. Less than one percent. But this guy wants his kid and he wants the pension money, and he’s a total nut job. But we’ve got him pinned in his trailer and he doesn’t even know it.”
Becky ran her hands through her hair. “Yeah, I’m fine with it. If the state wants me to babysit, I’ll babysit.”
“Okay. I want you to take him to the office at the bar. Delroy is there and Jonas needs lots of friends around him. Normally I’d say your place is fine, but we know Decker has been there, so that’s out of the question. Plus, you’ll be surrounded by cops downstairs. Couldn’t be safer. Sandy’s waiting for you at our place. We’ll pick him up after her doctor appointment.”
“No problem.” Then, “Jonesy, is Murton going to come out of this all right?”
“He’s one of the most important people in my life. I’d die for him, Becky.”
“I know you would. That’s what scares me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Only that I can relate to what Pam must have been going through over the last eight months. How do you think Murt feels about you, Jonesy? Do any of you guys ever wonder how it lands on the women in your lives? The brotherhood and all that.”
Becky had a look on her face that suggested she was focused on something else. Virgil watched her for a moment, then said, “Becky, are we okay?”
She took her time answering. “I don’t know, Jonesy. Are we?”
“Becks, we’ve known each other a long time. I’ve always trusted you because I know your loyalties to the people in your life…and mine. You have to know that I’ve got Murt’s back on this. I would never let anything happen to him.”
“I know that’s your intention, Jonesy, but the fact of the matter is this: I still think about being dragged naked from the shower and having my teeth knocked out by Hector Sigara. I think about waking up and seeing a shotgun pressed to the side of Murt’s head. I think about all of it every single day. Who had our backs then, Jonesy?”
“I did, Becky, and you know it. I was there.”
“A little late to the party though, weren’t you?”
“That’s not fair and it doesn’t honor the man who died saving your life. We got there as soon as we could. We came on a hunch, for Christ’s sake.”
“Look, no disrespect to Ed. He’s a hero to me. And so are you. But my point is this: Murt’s life could be on the line here. How many hunches do you have left?”
Virgil didn’t know what to say. “Becks, I promise you, this is going to work out. Hang around for the press conference before you get Jonas. You’ve got time. Maybe you’ll see what I mean.” Then before she could add any more: “Listen, we still need to find the connection between Pam and Martha Esser. Keep digging, will you?”
Becky wanted to question him but she let it go. “I will. Besides, Cora still has me working on something. I was going to work on it at home, but I’ll just do it from the office.”
Virgil arched his brow. “Working on what?”
“Stop with the eyebrow thing, will you? You’ve got a little Mr. Spock sort of habit going there and it’s creepy. I keep expecting you to show up with pointy ears and bangs.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Anyway, I’m following up to make sure the Esser’s didn’t have any heirs. You know, covering their butts when Mac and Cheese go on TV and say Martha Esser isn’t dead even though she is.”
Mac and Cheese? Virgil put his face in his hands. If Cora found out people were calling them that…
25
Virgil ran down to the conference room and told everyone what they were doing. Everyone agreed to go along with it, mainly, Virgil thought, because they really didn’t have to do anything except keep their mouths shut. He naturally got some pushback from the doctors. “I don’t know if that’s legal,” one of them said.
“I’m a cop,” Virgil said. “There’s nothing illegal about it.”
“That sounds a little like, ‘I’m from the government and I’m here to help.’”
“Look, we just don’t want anyone talking to anyone who doesn’t know. Especially the press.” Virgil glanced at the assistant district attorney and tipped his head back. The ADA caught it.
“I have a form here for everyone to sign. You’ll notice that I’ve already signed each of them myself,” he said. He began handing the papers out. “There’s no legal mumbo-jumbo. It states very clearly and simply that what we’re asking of you is perfectly legal, that no one is forcing you to do anything, and that your cooperation or lack thereof will in no way result in the state taking any legal action against you or—”
Virgil interrupted. “Listen, I’m sort of in a hurry here.”
The ADA waved him off. “It’s all good, Jonesy. I’ve got this. Go ahead and take off.”
Decker sat in front of the TV watching the coverage. He couldn’t believe how well his plan had worked out. It’d taken a little longer than he expected it would—but it looked like an arrest warrant would finally be issued for Murton Wheeler. According to the talking heads, he was going to be charged with the murder of Pam Donatti, and even better—this was something Decker hadn’t even considered—the state was re-examining the evidence surrounding the death of Ed Donatti. The heads were already saying for reasons not yet known, there was speculation that it had been Murton Wheeler’s plan all along to eliminate both Ed and Pam Donatti.
A press conference was scheduled to start soon where the governor and other state officials would give a briefing.
He sat back in his chair and clicked through the channels, thinking the whole thing through. The paperwork he’d filed
with the clerk of the court seeking custody of the boy had been a risk, one he felt he had to take. His thinking had been that once he’d gotten rid of Pam—messy, but necessary—he, as the boy’s biological father would have everything he needed, not the least of which was the money that would have gone to the Donatti’s. But then the people he worked for told him Martha Esser had to go, so that’s what he did. It surprised him, but these weren’t the type of people you said no to. These were the type of people that tapped you on the shoulder and quietly whispered a name in your ear. They didn’t give you a reason or an explanation, just a name. If you asked for a reason or even looked at them the wrong way, someone else would get a tap on the shoulder and your name would be whispered, and that would be that.
So. He hadn’t told them about the paperwork, and with good reason. They would not be happy. They had their own agenda, and Decker knew that if he got in the way of that he was expendable, which not only pissed him off, it scared him. They knew he was responsible for Pam’s death and his desire for the pension money. Gordon, his boss acted like it was nothing to him. A minor detail. Yes, yes, take care of business, as long as Martha Esser died, they didn’t care. He wanted to know more about the Esser bitch and the fact that he didn’t know was driving him crazy. What were they hiding?
So he’d gone along with their plan for two reasons. He didn’t have a viable plan of his own, and he wanted his boy and the money. When he forced himself to think about it, he had to admit that he didn’t really give two shits about the boy. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more despondent he became. What, now he had to drag a kid around with him everywhere he went for the next fifteen years? Fuck that.
Was there a way he could get rid of the kid and still get the money? He’d have to think about that. Definitely have to get the kid first. The kid was the key. Once paternity was established and the money came in the kid could…what? Disappear? Have a tragic accident? Whatever. He’d figure something out. He had to. It’s not like he could just send him off to boarding school. That wouldn’t work. No way he was going to let the little shit turn eighteen and walk up to him one day and say, “Where’s my money, dickhead?”
