The Virgil Jones Mystery Thriller Boxed Set

by Thomas Scott

  Angus Mizner and Basil Graves remained seated. “Christ almighty, Cal,” Graves said. “Do you have to be so dramatic about everything? Let the man say what he’s gonna say.”

  “We already know what he’s going to say.”

  “No we don’t, Cal,” Mizner said. “Now sit down.”

  Lipkins looked confused and a little angry, but he sat back down in his chair. He had big grey bushy eyebrows and he eventually raised them at Virgil.

  “If everybody agrees to it, you’re all going to get a piece of the deal. Here’s what I’m thinking. I want you to tell me why it won’t work.”

  None of them could. Virgil’s plan—it was actually Huma’s, though he’d never admit it to this group—was simple enough. Carl Johnson of Sunnydale Farms would handle the land for Virgil and Sandy this season on a trial basis, with an option to continue as needed, year-to-year. By taking on the land, it gave Johnson enough acreage that he was eligible to join the Co-op if he so desired.

  Johnson so desired.

  The Co-op would make Carl Johnson and Sunnydale Farms part of its operation, giving him full access to the manpower, equipment, and bulk purchasing agreements already in place. The addition of Virgil’s land back into the fold would enable them to further leverage their positions with their suppliers, and allow Johnson to manage the land in ways he otherwise wouldn’t have been able to accomplish. It was a win for everyone.

  They all liked the idea, even Lipkins. And though he tried to find something wrong with it, he couldn’t. They all shook on it, then got down to the nut-cutting.

  The nut-cutting took the better part of three hours. All the minor details were ironed out and Virgil signed a stack of papers…purchase orders, maintenance approval forms, agreements to let the Co-op make decisions on his behalf, and on and on and on. With that done, everyone agreed that Virgil would keep his nose out of the business, especially Virgil. It was his idea.

  “I trust you guys. I’ll want to look at the books at the end of the season, of course, but I’ll let you do your thing. Maybe bring my kid by once in a while…show him a tractor or something if I have the time, which I probably won’t.”

  “The books won’t be a problem,” Mizner said. “They’re handled by an outside firm. We’ll make sure you get copies of everything.”

  Graves was nodding. “He’s right. The books won’t be an issue. We’re all tighter’n a crab’s ass at the waterin’ hole. In this business you’ve got to be. But we’re not out to screw anybody.”

  “Got any questions, just let us know,” Lipkins said. “And bring your boy anytime. In fact, leave him with me for a week. I’ll make a man out him.”

  Everyone laughed, including Virgil, who would leave Jonas alone with Cal Lipkins just as soon as pigs started taking flight. They all shook hands again and stood to leave. Time to get to work. Virgil hung back and made a phone call and when he finished he found Lipkins admiring his truck.

  “It really is a pretty nice truck. Probably can’t haul much, but I bet it hauls the mail, if you take my meaning.”

  Virgil smiled at him. “It sure does.” He opened the door. “Here, let me start it up. Wait till you hear the engine. It sounds fantastic.” He hopped inside and turned the key and when he did, all he heard was a faint clicking sound. He’d left his headlights on, and now the battery was dead.

  He looked at Lipkins. “Uh, got any jumper cables?”

  Lipkins bit into the side of his cheek. “Well, I’m pretty sure I do. Don’t know if my piece of shit is up to the task or not, though. I wouldn’t want to put a strain on the battery. Maybe you should call triple-A or something.” He turned and walked away.

  Virgil thought he heard him add, ‘asshole’ at the end of his statement. He spread his arms out and said, “Ah, Cal, I was just giving you a little shit. Isn’t that what you guys do? Cal? Hey, c’mon Cal.”

  Lipkins got in his truck and headed toward the road. When it was clear he wasn’t coming back Virgil took out his phone and called Mizner, who was back at the co-op ten minutes later. “What is it with that guy?” Virgil asked after they got his truck started.

  Mizner’s eyes glazed over and he didn’t look at Virgil when he spoke. “Cal’s had a rough go of it over the years. Took some pretty heavy losses. Personal and professional. Never really got past them. He wasn’t always like that. Now…” He let the statement hang.

  Virgil did too. “Thanks for coming back.” He got in his truck and buzzed the window down. “Anything else I need to know about him?”

  Mizner squinted at him. “Is this Virgil the cop or Virgil the farmer asking?”

  Virgil thought about what Sandy had said to him. He looked at Mizner and said, “I’m not a farmer.” When Mizner didn’t answer he buzzed the window up and drove away.

  17

  Despite his already long morning at the Co-op, Virgil was a little early for the meeting. When he got to the MCU’s new facility—they were still finishing up some of the renovations—much of the parking lot was full with contractor vehicles and he discovered there was no place to park. He dumped his truck back out on the street and jogged to the entrance. Miles caught him at the door.

  “Hey Jonesy. Got a second?”

  Virgil looked at his watch. “Hey Ron. Not really,” he lied. “I’m running late as it is. Maybe—”

  Miles wasn’t listening. Or maybe he was and was simply tired of being dodged. “That seems to be the pattern with you, doesn’t it? C’mon, follow me. This will only take a second.” He turned and started down the hall. Virgil shook his head and followed him.

  They ended up in Ron’s office. As the actual head of the MCU, Ron had taken the biggest office in the building. Virgil didn’t care, as he was rarely there anyway. He still considered the office over the bar his main working space. He only showed up at the MCU headquarters when absolutely necessary. Two men waited inside and they both stood when Virgil and Ron walked in. Virgil knew one of them. The other was a stranger to him.

  “Virgil, you know Andy Ross.”

  Ross had made a minor miscalculation on another case and Virgil chewed him out in a very public way. He apologized a short time afterwards, as the chewing had been a little excessive. Ross desperately wanted to be a part of the MCU and Virgil had later cleared a path for him into the unit. Another thing that rubbed Miles the wrong way.

  “Sure do. How’s it going kid?”

  Ross was maybe fifteen years younger than Virgil, and came highly recommended from the SWAT commander, Jon Mok. “It’s going well, Sir. Happy to be here.”

  “Happy to have you. And save that ‘sir’ shit for guys wearing ties…like this one.” He jerked his thumb at Miles. “Everyone calls me Jonesy.”

  Ross seemed to take a moment to inspect Virgil, who was dressed in a black t-shirt and blue jeans, over half-top boots. Proving he was up to the task, Ross asked, “What’s that cologne you’re wearing, Jonesy? It’s sort of unusual.”

  “It’s essence of cow shit No. 7. I was at a meeting down at the Shelby County Co-op. We had to figure out who…ah, never mind.” He realized it would take too much explaining. He turned his attention to the other man and stuck out his hand. “Virgil Jones. Call me Jonesy. You’re…?”

  The other man shook his hand. “Birth Certificate says Christopher Patrick Lawless. My mom calls me C.P., but everyone else calls me Chip. Guess I’ll be working with Mimi Phillips? I came from the St. Joe County Metro Homicide Unit. It’s an honor to meet you, Sir…uh, Jonesy.”

  Virgil smiled. “A cop named Lawless, huh? That’s perfect. Yeah, you’ll be working with Mimi. Have you met her yet?” He was looking at Miles when he asked. Miles didn’t try to hide his grin. Things had been tense between the two of them and they needed something to break the ice.

  “No, I haven’t. I think that’s next on the agenda. Detective Miles wanted us to meet you first.”

  “Did he?” Virgil appreciated that and made a mental note to cut Ron some slack. His job was tough enough. �
��Well, welcome aboard guys. You’ll see me around. Ron will get you up to speed. He’s the boss. I’m a working grunt, just like you.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence, the kind you get when no one really knows who is supposed to step in and cover up the very obvious bullshit Virgil was spreading around.

  Lawless took the lead. “I haven’t met Mimi, but I have spoken to her on the phone.” Then, to ensure his point was made, he added, “My God.”

  That got them all going. It made Virgil feel a little like a pig, but when you’re right, you’re right. Mimi’s voice was so hot it was possible she single-handedly contributed to global warming. Virgil clapped Lawless on the back. “You’ll fit right in. Good to have you both. Ron? If there’s nothing else? I really need to be on my way.”

  Miles seemed to soften. “Anything I need to know about?”

  Virgil answered carefully. “Yes. But let’s get to it later, okay?”

  Miles nodded. “Sure.”

  Virgil thought it was the most neutral pronunciation he’d ever heard.

  He took it.

  Then Rosencrantz caught him in the hallway. “Jones-man. Got a second?”

  “Ah, Rosie, I really don’t.” Then, like an idiot, “What’s up?”

  “You know that thing I’m working down in Bloomington?”

  “I’ve had my ear on it,” Virgil said, which wasn’t a complete lie. He knew the basics, but little else, so Rosencrantz gave him the meat of it.

  A female student at the university in her final year had recently disappeared. The MCU didn’t normally handle missing person cases, but the Bloomington Chief of Police was married to a woman who sat on the board of directors of a company who’d contributed heavily to the governor’s last campaign. The student had interned at the same company the previous summer as the chief’s wife’s assistant. By all accounts her internship had gone well, and a job was waiting for her once she graduated. But now, in what was her final semester at I.U., she’d dropped off the map as if she’d never existed.

  “It doesn’t sound like there’s been much progress,” Virgil said.

  Rosencrantz shook his head. “There hasn’t. She lived off campus with her boyfriend, a guy by the name of Nate Morgan. He’s a student at the U, same as her. She’s studying archaeology and he’s in the school of medicine.”

  “You’ve eliminated him as a suspect?”

  “Not officially, but if he’s involved he’s one hell of an actor. He admits that things were a little rough. They weren’t together all that much, but he swears on his life he knows nothing about it. I tend to believe him. You ought to see this guy. He’s about a foot shorter than you and weighs in at around one-twenty, tops. He’s local, not one single person has had anything bad to say about him, other than the whining.”

  “Whining?”

  “Yeah. I’ve never heard anything like it. It reminds me of those parents who baby-talk to their kids, then end up baby-talking all the goddamned time, even to adults, know what I mean?” Then, with a look of skepticism, “Say, you’re not doing that with Wyatt are you?”

  “I’m not,” Virgil said, annoyed with himself that he answered the question. “Being a whiner doesn’t automatically get someone a pass or eliminate them as a suspect, Rosie.”

  Rosencrantz gave him a look. “Thanks for the update. He volunteered to take a lie detector test.”

  “So set it up. Let me know how it shakes out. Listen, I’ve got to run.” Virgil said.

  Rosencrantz wasn’t finished. “I did. Not only that, I watched them administer the test. When they were finished the technician said if the boyfriend had anything to do with her disappearance she’d kiss me on the lips.”

  “Well, at least you’ve got something to look forward to.”

  Rosencrantz visibly shuddered. “Are you kidding? Margery would kill me. Besides, this is one of the scariest broads I’ve ever seen. I think she buys her makeup from an automotive paint supplier. Her B.O. smells like she’s got a night gig as a pin-setter for the local bowling alley during league season. If the guy turns out to be guilty, which he’s not, I’m going to change my name and disappear myself.”

  “So what’s next?”

  “That’s just it…I don’t know. There’s been no ransom demands. The family doesn’t have any money anyway. Her old lady died a few years ago. Fun fact: she’d been married so many times she had a wedding officiant on speed dial.”

  “All the ex-husbands check out?”

  “Yup. Solid, credible and verified alibis on every last one of them.”

  “So what do you want from me?”

  Rosencrantz puffed out his cheeks. “Look, I hope they find the kid, I really do. You know me, Jonesy, I’ve got a heart of gold. The whole thing is tearing me up. But maybe it’s a case of ‘like mother, like daughter.’ She probably got tired of her whiny geek boyfriend, got a better offer from someone else and split town.”

  “What about her bank and cell records?”

  Rosencrantz scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, that is a problem. Both have been idle ever since she left. No signal on the phone and no money taken from her account.”

  “That’s great information, Rosie. But I’ll ask you again, what do you want from me?”

  “I want off it, is what I want. Even the Bloomington fuzz thinks this one is going to end up like some of the others they’ve had down there. It’s tragic, it really is, but how much time am I supposed to devote to it? We don’t even have a crime scene to process. I was wondering if you could speak to Ron for me. I’ve tried, but—”

  Virgil held up his hands. “Sorry, Rosie. No can do. I’m on thin ice with Ron. You know that.”

  Rosencrantz nodded. “I know.” Then he leaned in closer and said, “But everyone around here knows you’re really the boss. Can’t you just…I don’t know, reassign me or something? I mean, Jesus Christ, I’m all for catching bad guys, but it’s ninety-nine percent this chick is gone, like a paternity prank that went bad or something.”

  Virgil looked at him for a moment. “I think you mean fraternity.”

  Rosencrantz frowned at him. “Yeah…that’s what I said.”

  Virgil shook his head. “Unless something big comes up, you’re on it. Mac likes to keep his donors happy.”

  Rosencrantz didn’t want to hear it. “You know those Bloomington dicks can’t find their own asses without a guided tour. Their idea of a hot tip usually involves a college freshman in heels and a short skirt.”

  “So enjoy the view. I do have an idea though, if you’re interested.”

  Rosencrantz looked relieved. “Yes. Please. Anything.”

  “Go back down there and figure it out. You’ll be a hero and be able to move on to the next case.”

  He let his eyelids droop. “Gee, thanks, boss. That’s a big help. I better not get any shit over my mileage reimbursement.”

  “Talk to Ron. I’m sure it’ll all work out.” He clapped him on the shoulder and walked away.

  Rosencrantz wasn’t finished though. “Maybe we ought to rename our squad. MCU could stand for Missing College Undergrad.”

  Virgil was already around the corner and gone, his mind on other things.

  18

  He didn’t get far. Cora grabbed him as he rounded the corner. This, Virgil thought, is why he didn’t spend more time at the office. “What’s up?” he asked, a little more annoyance in his voice than he intended. “I’m going to be late for the meeting. And why aren’t you there?”

  Cora gave him a look. “Let’s step into your office. And how about you ratchet it back a little? We’ve got a few minutes and I need to talk with you.”

  Virgil tugged at his earlobe and made an effort to slow down a bit. “Sure.” He looked around for a moment and Cora caught it. They were new to the building and this was only the second time Virgil had been inside.

  “You don’t know where your office is, do you?” Cora said, a satisfied grin on her face.

  Cora led him through the
building, tugging at his elbow twice as he almost made a couple of wrong turns. Once there, they discovered his office hadn’t been furnished yet. It was completely empty. “Maybe Ron is trying to send you a message,” Cora said. “I guess we’ll have to stand.”

  Virgil covered for him. “I told him I wanted to pick out my own stuff. I haven’t gotten to it yet.”

  “Right. Listen, I spoke with Gibson earlier this morning. The meeting has been set back an hour. And we’re having it over at the federal building instead of here.”

  “Why?”

  Cora shrugged. “Who knows? It’s probably a turf thing. I’m sure Gibson doesn’t want to walk into our building and make a presentation. He wants us to come to him. Don’t be so surprised.”

  “I’m not, really,” Virgil said. He walked over to the window and raised the blinds to let some light in. “Did you tell Becky?”

  “Everyone knows.”

  “What about the governor?”

  “What about him,” the governor said as he walked into the room. He looked around the empty office. “I came down to inspect the new digs. I guess they’re saving your office for last. I love the natural light, though. It really sort of opens up the whole room.” He smiled at his own joke, then said, “So, Jonesy, how’s it feel to have fuck-you money?”

  Virgil gave the governor a flat stare. “I wish everyone would stop saying that. I don’t have any money, Mac. I have the land, that’s all.”

  The governor shrugged his shoulders. “Same thing, really. If you’re smart, that is.” Then he raised his chin a fraction of an inch, an unmistakable whiff of authority in his voice. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you call me that before.”

  Virgil felt his face redden. “Uh, sorry, Sir. That just sort of slipped out.”

  The governor waved him off. “Let me know if you need any advice. Our family made its money in real estate.”