The Virgil Jones Mystery Thriller Boxed Set

by Thomas Scott

  The next two days were something of a blur. The loss of Patty Doyle haunted Virgil. He and Sandy made formal statements to every law enforcement agency that had either been a part of the investigation or present after the detonation of the bomb on their farmland.

  The blast ruined about fifty acres of planted crops. Carl Johnson offered to run a dozer over the crater and fill the hole and replant, but when they talked about the cost, Virgil told him to forget it. Fifty acres out of two thousand wasn’t worth it. They’d let it go for now and address it after the harvest in the fall. They were standing next to the hole when Angus Mizner walked up on them. “That’s quite a hole.”

  Virgil looked at him. “It was quite a bomb.”

  “Anyway,” Mizner said, “Me and Basil been talking about it and we need to run something by you, Virgil. You too, Carl.”

  Virgil and Carl Johnson looked at each other, then back at Mizner. “What is it?”

  “We’re going to buy Cal’s land from his estate. It’s all in the Co-op’s charter so there won’t be any other bidders and such.”

  Johnson shrugged. “Fine by me.”

  “Me too,” Virgil said. “Heck, I’d go in with you if I could afford it.”

  Mizner had a toe-in-the-dirt look on his face. It was so obvious he actually kicked his toe in the dirt, a few pieces of rock and debris trickling down in the hole when he did. “Well, you see, the thing is…”

  Virgil was instantly pissed. “That is absolutely unacceptable, Angus. I won’t stand for it. Not for one single minute.”

  Mizner was nodding, almost like he was on Virgil’s side. “I know you’re upset, Virgil. I would be too if the situation was reversed.” He didn’t look at Virgil when he spoke. Instead he kicked a few more pieces of dirt into the hole.

  “Except it’s not reversed, is it?” Virgil said through his teeth.

  Mizner had just told them that as soon as he and Basil Graves took over Cal’s land, they’d hold the majority of shares in the Co-op. The Co-op charter stated that the majority share holders were allowed to set the rules regarding who could and could not be a member. Virgil and Carl Johnson were getting pushed out.

  “Look, it’s strictly a business decision,” Mizner said. Then, as if he couldn’t live with the lie he’d just told, he added, “Well, maybe not all business.”

  “Meaning what?” Virgil said. He was practically yelling at Mizner.

  “Ever since you showed up here last fall, people have been dropping like flies.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Martha Esser, Charlie Esser, Vernon Conrad, a whole slew of people connected to the gas operation, and now Cal Lipkins. We’re afraid if you keep hanging around one of us is going to be next.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Virgil said. “You make it sound like I killed them. I was down here doing my job.”

  Mizner tossed his hands in the air and let them flop down at his sides. “Dead is dead. Decision’s been made. Ain’t nothing said here going to change anything.”

  Virgil took a few deep breaths and tried to get his emotions in check. “Look, if you do this, you’ll be hanging me out to dry. Carl can’t handle this much land by himself.” He glanced at Carl Johnson. “No offense.”

  Johnson waved it off. “You’re right. I can’t.”

  “So what do you suggest I do?”

  “It’s your land, Virgil. Anything you want. Me and Basil talked about it. We’ve agreed to let you stay on for the rest of this year. A commitment was made and it’s one we intend to honor. But come next spring, you’re on your own. Maybe you could sell the Esser house. That would hold you over for another year without planting a thing.”

  “Yeah, that’s great advice, Angus. Thanks.” Virgil turned around and walked away.

  That night Virgil told Sandy about getting booted from the Co-op. Her reply wasn’t what he expected. “Maybe it’s for the best, Virgil.”

  “What? How? How could it possibly be for the best?”

  Sandy knew her husband well enough to know there wasn’t anything she could say in the moment to calm him. She kissed him on the cheek and told him she was going to bed. Virgil told her he’d be in later. He sat at his desk trying to figure out a way to keep himself financially afloat.

  The land was going to be a curse…he just knew it. Maybe he’d be able to make a deal with one of the conglomerates after the harvest later in the year. He walked down to the pond and sat down in the grass, his back leaning against his father’s cross. It wasn’t very comfortable but at some point he fell asleep. Eventually the stiffness in his back woke him. When he looked at his watch he was surprised to see it was almost four in the morning.

  “I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up,” Mason said. He was seated in the chair where Virgil usually sat, his legs crossed, his fingers interlaced behind his head. “Lot of stuff on that thumb drive, huh?”

  Virgil rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stood up. His back ached. “Yeah, I guess so. Mind telling me why you waited so long to give it to me?”

  “Boy oh boy, you sure know how to make a guy feel like he’s his own victim sometimes.”

  “What?”

  “If I’d have let you crush that drive under your boot like you wanted to, you never would have known what Pearson was willing to do to get rid of Ed Donatti.”

  “It still didn’t save him.”

  “That’s because he wasn’t meant to be saved, Son. Jonas and Murton were. And the way it turned out, Jonas is right where he belongs…where he was meant to be. Always. Just like Murton, both years ago and right now.”

  “Then why’d you let me have it when you did?”

  “Because there’s information on there that will help you and others.”

  “Who?”

  “You’ll figure it out. By the way, getting kicked out of the Co-op was a gift. Bank on it, Virg.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “Stop seeing and start thinking, Son. Use your imagination. Dream big and all that jazz.” Mason raised his wrist and tapped the face of his watch. “Still sort of bugs me that my watch doesn’t work over here. Anyway, it’s time, Virg.”

  “Time for what?”

  Mason grinned at him. “The farm report. I’m sure Mizner is watching. He gave you the answer you wanted. All you have to do is ask yourself the right questions. Don’t let anything haunt you, Son. Ever.”

  And Virgil thought, what?

  Virgil walked up to the house. He replayed the conversation he had with Mizner in his head. He’d been furious with him. Had he missed something? If he had, he didn’t know what it could be. He went inside and plopped down on the sofa. He tuned into the farm report on television and watched the entire show. It was a painfully dry dissertation on weather conditions and forecasts that were no better than the regular morning news. He was about to turn the damned thing off when an editorial piece came on that spoke of old farmhouses and what a waste it was that the farmers were buying up the land and letting the houses go to seed. The counter point was that farmers were farmers, not landlords. They had neither the time nor the desire to maintain the houses and make them available for rent. Why bother with a few hundred bucks a month and the hassle of finding quality tenants when you could pull ten grand an acre out of the ground every year? Virgil could see the logic in the counter point. It simply wasn’t worth it. He still hadn’t done anything with the Esser house. He had neither the time nor the desire to be a landlord. Then he saw a commercial for a realty company that specialized in buying old farmhouses. He grabbed the remote and paused the screen.

  Virgil replayed the conversation again. Mizner had told him to sell the Esser house. Virgil and Company owned the house as part of the inheritance, but they’d not yet done anything with it. It simply sat there empty. His father had told him to watch the farm report. He’d also said not to let anything haunt him. There were plenty of things that were bothering Virgil, but only one thing that was haunting him.

  Virgil finally understood.
/>   When he picked up the phone and called Becky, she was not happy.

  “You can be pissed at me later, Becks. I need some information and I need it right now.”

  “At four-thirty in the morning? Why am I not surprised? Just a minute.” She set the phone down—a little harder than necessary, Virgil thought—and was back a few moments later. “Okay, I’m at the computer. I can barely see, but I’m at the computer.”

  “How many separate plots of land did Cal Lipkins own that made up the entirety of his farm?”

  “Hold on.” Virgil heard a series of keyboard clicks he thought might never end. It went on for so long he began to picture Becky sitting in front of the keyboard, her head propped up with one hand, the other simply stabbing at random keys in an effort to appease him. Then the clicking suddenly stopped.

  “Becks?”

  “What?”

  “Why did you stop?’

  “Because I’m reading. Please be quiet for a minute will you?” Then a few moments later, “Okay, over the years it looks like he purchased twelve other farms that connect to his land in one way or another.”

  “Can you check the history of the assessed value? I need to know how many of them have or had farmhouses that were included in the sale.”

  The clicking started again. When it finally stopped, Becky said, “Oh man. That’s beautiful.”

  “What? What’s beautiful?”

  “Murton just brought me a cup of coffee. That never happens.”

  Virgil heard Murton in the background. “Yes it does. It happens all the time.”

  Becky ignored him. “Anyway, the tax records show only one of the twelve had a dwelling on it. Want the address?”

  Virgil scribbled a note to Sandy and ran out the door. He punched the address into the truck’s nav unit and once he was clear of his house he hit the lights and siren and pushed the Ford Raptor to its limit. When the speedometer hit one hundred twenty the front end started to wobble and Virgil had to back off slightly. It was still very early in the morning and he was able to hold the speed all the way down to Shelby County.

  He turned off the highway and then followed the nav unit as it took him down a dirt road. There were no markings of any kind and when he sailed past the point where he was supposed to turn, the nav unit starting bitching at him. He skidded to a stop and put the truck in reverse. This time when the nav unit told him he was at the proper place he shined the truck’s spotlight out the side window and saw a long drive that was nothing more than an overgrown trail. He turned down the dirt lane, taking it slow. He’d gone almost a half mile before he saw the structure. It was a broken shell of a house set off to the side at the far end of the lane. When Virgil saw it, he knew he was in the right place. What he didn’t know was what he’d find, though in the dark rivers of his heart, he had a pretty good idea.

  It’d been a long time. Far too long.

  Epilogue

  When Virgil finally returned home, Sandy, Huma, Murton, and Becky were waiting for him. He got an earful from Sandy.

  “We’ve been worried sick, Virgil. We had an agreement, remember?”

  Virgil was in more than a little trouble and he knew it. He countered with his best diplomacy. He bit into his lip, closed his left eye and said, “I left you a note. Didn’t you get it?”

  Sandy walked over to the table, picked up the note and waved it at him. “You mean this?” She looked at Murton and Becky. “He left a note, he says. Here, let me read it to you.”

  Murton leaned in close to whisper something into Virgil’s ear and got a whiff of the odor that hung on his brother. “Jesus, dude, where the hell have you been? You smell like death…and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. Pickles, maybe? Anyway, she’s read us the note about twenty times already.”

  Sandy pointed a finger at Murton. “Murton Wheeler, if you know what’s good for you…”

  Murton held up his hands and stepped away. “Don’t worry. I don’t know what’s going on, but if I get any closer to him I’m going to need a respirator.”

  “The note says, ‘I’ll be back.’ I’ll be back? What kind of note is that?”

  “Well, I am back. Besides, if you were that worried, why didn’t you call?”

  Virgil heard Murton say, ‘Uh oh.’ When he looked at him, Murton was staring at the floor, his hand shielding his eyes as if blocking them from the sun’s rays.

  “I did call, Virgil. Once. Want to know what happened?”

  “Sure.”

  Sandy took out her phone and punched in Virgil’s number. When Virgil heard his phone buzz he turned around and saw that it sat on his desk. When he turned back to Sandy she had her hands on her hips, her head tipped to one side, her mouth formed a tight line, her eyebrows arched. Virgil was mildly surprised she wasn’t tapping her foot on the floor.

  Delroy walked in, looked at Virgil and said, “Tank God. Where you been, you?” Then without waiting for an answer he walked over and kissed Huma on the cheek. “What’d I miss, me?”

  Huma turned and kissed Delroy full on the lips. “That’s a kiss.” Then, “Not much. It’s just starting to get good.” She slipped her hand into his.

  Virgil walked up to Sandy to give her a hug and apologize. Sandy, who was actually more relieved than mad would have let him if it weren’t for the smell. She stepped back before he got any closer. “Dear God, what is that smell?”

  Jonas ran into the room to greet his father. “Hi Dad. I tink Mommy’s mad at you.”

  Delroy looked at Huma. “Hear dat?”

  Huma grinned at him. “It sounds like the conversion process is taking hold.”

  Jonas looked at his father. “You smell like business.” Then to Delroy. “Irie, mon?”

  Delroy laughed his big loud Jamaican laugh and when he did it sucked most of the tension out of the room.

  Sandy told Virgil to go take a shower before he stunk up the entire house. They’d waited this long. A few more minutes wouldn’t kill them, especially since they knew he was safe. Once he was cleaned up they all sat down and he told them what happened.

  “Okay, first of all, let me say that Becky knew where I was and—”

  Becky wasn’t having it. “No way, Jonesy. You’re not going to drag me into this. You pulled me out of bed at four-thirty in the morning. I’d only been asleep for two hours.”

  Virgil looked at her. “Two hours? Are you usually up so late?”

  Murton looked at Virgil and let his eyes fall to half mast. “We had a little catching up to do,” Murton said. “Besides, when Small finally got a hold of us we came right over. That was an hour ago. I was getting ready to head down to Shelby County when we saw you turn in the drive.”

  Virgil took a deep breath. “Okay, look, I’m sorry everyone. Really. I got the address from Becky. It was one of Cal Lipkins’s properties. I had to take one more shot at finding Patty Doyle.”

  “But what took you so long?” Sandy asked. “Did you find her?”

  Virgil couldn’t help it. His voice got shaky and his eyes began to water as he told them the story.

  The sun had yet to cross the horizon and it wasn’t nearly bright enough for Virgil to see. He pointed his truck directly at the front of the house and hit the spotlight again. When he twisted the interior handle of the spot and manipulated the light, the house lit up like some kind of monster in the false dawn. He moved the light across the surface of the structure, watching the shadows dance and slither away with the movement of the light.

  The gaping holes with broken windows were at once hideous and inviting, beckoning him to step inside. An entire section of roof was torn off, its rafters exposed to the elements, as if a giant hand had reached out and simply ripped it away. A large tree stood close to the front corner, one limb hanging low by the remnants of the eve trough, then sweeping back upward across the peak of the roof, its finer branches like fingers of a hand. The whole thing looked like a giant arm, bent at the elbow. It didn’t take too much imagination to envision th
e hand and fingers sliding across the shingles and tearing out the missing part of the roof.

  The entire place looked…haunted.

  Don’t let anything haunt you, Son. Ever.

  Virgil grabbed his flashlight, unlocked the shotgun from its holder and headed toward the house. The shotgun might have been a little much. But then again, the whole place gave him the willies.

  The moment he stepped inside he knew he was too late. He’d smelled death before and there was no mistaking the overwhelming foul odor of decaying flesh. He immediately turned around and moved back out of the house. He sat down on the front step and let his head hang down. The house no longer seemed haunted. It just felt incredibly sad.

  All of this because someone wanted to extract natural gas from under his land. How many more people had to die before the gas issue would go away? Why did it have to culminate in the death of an innocent and beautiful young woman in the prime of her life? Where did it end?

  He walked back to his truck and put the shotgun back in its rack. He opened another box and took out a pair of latex gloves and a paper face mask. He slipped everything on and headed back inside.

  Patty Doyle’s body was in there somewhere. Like it or not, it was his job to find her remains and help put her to rest.

  The paper mask didn’t help much with the smell and Virgil found himself breathing through his mouth, the mask puffing in and out with each breath. He was only four steps into the damned place before he could taste death at the back of his throat. The floorboards under his feet creaked with every step and Virgil wondered if they’d be able to take his weight. They seemed solid, but he felt the sag with almost every step.

  He shined his flashlight around the entryway and into what must have been the living room. He noticed a faint humming noise that seemed to grow louder with each step. When he stopped to listen the sound was more clear. He let his ears guide him through a doorway that led him into the kitchen and when he saw the dead body, his heart began to race.