by Marvin Wolf
Ash said, “And maybe the farmer who found the body?”
“Do you want me to send someone with you?”
“If it would make you feel better,” Ash said.
“No difference to me, but you might find that folks around here are more ready to talk to local law than a Fed.”
Will said, “We’d be happy to have your deputy along.”
Taliaferro pushed the computer away. “Do you think my case might be linked to yours?”
Ash said, “I’m afraid so. The location and condition of the car is the reason. Right on the edge of the base. Near where the Thompson brothers vanished. We don’t know what these abductions are about yet, but this would be the sixth one. Chronologically, it’s the earliest that we know of. All the others were men, and we haven’t found any other bodies. And all the cars were wiped down, and left someplace where they’d be found easily.”
“One of my detectives will take you to Mrs. Richardson’s home,” said the sheriff, rising from her desk and coming around to shake first Will’s and then Ash’s hand.
“And mum’s the word,” added Taliaferro. “No media.”
Chapter 23
Sheriff’s Detective Lonnie Marsten was in his fifties, a tall, slim, sallow-faced man in an old gray suit, cream-colored shirt open at the neck, and cowboy boots. There were tobacco stains on his fingers and when he grinned, his large, square teeth were stained.
In the parking lot behind the station, Marsten offered Will a limp hand and ignored Ash as he introduced himself.
“You want to ride with me, or do I come with you?” he said.
Ash said, “We’ll follow you?”
“Suits me,” he said, looking at Will. “I’ll be out in front, green unmarked unit.”
Seconds later, behind the wheel of her car, Ash gripped the wheel with white knuckles, plainly seething. “How could you let him diss me like that?”
Will shook his head. “I’m pretty sure that nothing I could say or do would do anything to change his attitude. And if I tried, then we’d both have to put up with him feeling all aggrieved. Also, I’m pretty sure you could kick his ass if you had a mind to.”
Ash giggled. “Why do you say that?”
“You are a small person. You choose to make a career in law enforcement. You are a smart person. You know that in law enforcement, there will be times when one or more persons do not wish to comply with your orders. I have seen no evidence that you have a death wish. Therefore I conclude that you have been schooled in some form of the martial arts, and you are more than capable of taking care of yourself in an altercation with a bigger assailant.”
Smiling, Ash started the engine. “Someone has taught you well, Grasshopper.”
Chapter 24
Hodgeville was unincorporated, a few homes and businesses, and a church along a county road a few miles south of Dothan. Maxwell Burris’s farm was on a dirt road a little southeast of the town.
Burriss was in his sixties, a tall, burly African American with very dark skin who farmed 162 acres of peanuts, and raised chickens and hogs. Accompanied by three large dogs, he came out of his house at the sound of the two cars that had driven up the dirt road in the slanting light of approaching sunset.
Marsten waited for Ash to pull in behind him, and all three got out of their cars together. Before Marsten could speak, Burris smiled and gestured toward his open front door.
“Y’all come on inside,” he said.
They found seats around a kitchen table covered with a spotless linen cloth. Pearl Burris, a slim, short woman with bobbed white hair, wordlessly set cups and saucers before them, then poured fresh coffee into each cup, set a sugar bowl, three spoons, and a pint bottle of cream on the table, and left the room.
Burris said, “’Spect you’re here to talk about that white girl who fell from the sky.”
Marsten said, “These here are federal agents from Fort Rucker.”
Ash said, “I’m Special Agent Shapiro, and this is Special Agent Spaulding. Did you see her fall from the sky?”
Burris shook his head. “Nope. Pearl—that’s my wife, you just met her—Pearl and I were watching “Finding Your Roots” on PBS when we heard a helicopter go by, slow and kind of low. Nothing to get excited about, you understand. There’s hardly a day or a night when one of those machines isn’t flying around somewhere in these parts, what with the fort and all. So we paid it no mind. We were more interested in how Bill O’Reilly and Bill Maher were distant cousins.”
Will said, “When did you discover the body?”
Burris smiled, revealing perfect teeth. “I was getting to that. Not the next day, but the day after, about two hours before supper time, I was going over to my pond, carrying a fishing pole and a little can of earthworms. I was hoping to catch a couple of nice catfish for dinner. My dogs went running down around the lower end, where it’s only two or three feet deep and started barking. That’s when I saw her, nekkid as a jaybird. I turned around and went back to the house and called the sheriff.”
“You came out next day,” Burris said, looking at Marsten. “After the other deputies, and the medical examiner.”
Ash said, “Thank you, Mister Burris. So you didn’t actually see the woman fall out of the sky?”
Burris shook his head. “No, no. But there’s not hardly any other way she could have gotten there. The road is maybe 200 yards from the pond, and there were no footprints across the peanut field, where the soil is soft. And then there was that helicopter. He sounded like he was right over the pond, and moving very slow, and then he speeded up and flew away. So she had to come from the sky, don’t you see?”
Ash said, “Mr. Burris, is there anything else you can tell us about this body?”
Burris shook his head. “She’d been shot, is all, but I ‘spect you know that.”
Ash said, “Did you recognize the woman, Mr. Burris?”
From the next room, Pearl yelled, “Hell no, he didn’t. My husband is a God-fearing man, a respectable farmer, fifth generation in Houston County, and he don’t have no truck with no white women, no how.”
Burris stood up. “Anything else I can do for you folks?”
Will said, “Two more questions, sir. From what you could hear, how high do you think that helicopter was flying?”
Burris shook his head. “Can’t say. But not too low. Weren’t that loud, y’see.”
Will said, “And how fast was it traveling, do you think”
“Not fast. We heard it for probably two minutes, seemed to be moving slow, then slower, and then it left faster than it came.”
Will took out a CID business card, lined out D’Angelo’s name, and wrote his own. He added his cell phone number before handing it to Burris.
“You think of anything else, Mr. Burris, give us a call.”
Chapter 25
Standing next to Marsten’s car, Will held up the printout that Sheriff Taliaferro gave them. He said, “Why wasn’t there anything about the helicopter in your report, Detective Marsten?”
Marsten’s face colored. “Didn’t seem important. Still don’t.”
Ash said, “We know it’s important. It tells us where the body came from, and that somebody who flies a helicopter was involved. And 99 percent of all the people who fly helicopters in the State of Alabama are on Fort Rucker.”
Marsten shook his head. “Like I said, it didn’t seem important at the time. Let’s go, ’fore it’s too dark to see these dirt roads.”
Still seething, Ash climbed behind the wheel and started the engine as Will got in beside her. “I’ve got a mind to call Sheriff Taliaferro about this moron,” she said.
Will said, “Let’s tell Chelmin, and he can decide if he wants to get Colonel Moffett to give her a call.To begin with, small town cops don’t much like federal agents, and there’s no point in stirring up a hornet’s nest and setting community relations back twenty years to make sure that an idiot like Marsten is exposed. I’d be surprised if the sheriff isn’t
well aware of Marsten’s limitations.”
“What do you know about small-town cops, Grasshopper?”
Will collected his thoughts as they bumped along the dirt road in the twilight. When they had followed Marsten’s car onto the paved county road, he decided to share more personal information.
“My father is the chief of police in Barstow, California, which is a wide spot on the way from Las Vegas to Los Angeles and vice versa. I was a patrol officer on that force for four years, and a detective for one before I joined the Army. That’s how I know that small-town cops don’t much care for feds. Fact is, they don’t much care for the state police or county sheriffs unless we need their help.”
“You are full of surprises, Grasshopper. How big is Barstow?”
“Maybe 24,000 people. Gas stations, motels, fast food joints, a few bars, the Marine Corps Logistics Center and Fort Irwin, and not much more in the way of jobs. Twenty or thirty rapes a year, two or three murders, maybe 100 burglaries, and a lot of D&D.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Long version or short?”
“Try the short.”
“There wasn’t much left for me. My fiancé broke our engagement and two months later married my best friend. I knew almost every other woman in my age group. Putting aside the married ones, the certifiable ones, the sluts, the plug-uglies, and those I’d already dated, there wasn’t a woman that I could imagine marrying.”
“You left because you couldn’t get laid?”
Will’s blush was hidden by the darkness. “It was more than that. I’m not much for meaningless, recreational sex. I tried that in college, and it led to all kinds of bruised feelings and misunderstandings. And, going back to why I left Barstow, there was something else.”
“You killed someone.”
“No. I arrested the son of the richest man in town, the guy who owned the only newspaper and the only television station for thirty miles. Got him for murder. Caught him red-handed. The only way to beat that rap is to make it look like I framed him—so that’s exactly what they did. Day after day, they ran front-page articles about how I was suspected of protecting drug dealers, how I was suspected of planting evidence, stealing cash from drug busts, giving false testimony. And then they went after my dad, the chief.”
“So you quit and left town?”
“That’s about it.”
“And your rich guy’s murdering son?”
Will’s face relaxed into a wan smile. “He got what he deserved.”
Chapter 26
Mrs. Idelle Richardson was fifty-something and trying hard to look fabulous, with a tummy tuck, a nipped and tucked neck, a fortune in cosmetics and hair treatments, a sweater with a plunging neckline, and a skirt about a foot too short. She welcomed the three law enforcers into the sitting room of her three-story faux Georgian in Dothan’s upscale Green Acres neighborhood and rang a tiny silver bell to summon a young African American woman in what was meant to be a French maid’s getup.
“Bring my usual, Louise, and get my guests whatever they wish.”
“We won’t be here that long,” said Ash.
“I insist,” said Richardson.
“Water,” said Ash.
“Water is fine,” said Will.
“A Truck Stop,” said Marsten.
“Would you care for a glass with that, Deputy?” asked the lady of the house.
“Nope,” said Marsten. “Bottle’s fine.”
A few moments later, Louise returned with two bottles of Fiji water, a bottle of beer, and a glass with an amber liquid. Richardson admired the light playing on the tall, frosty glass with a mint leaf floating atop its contents, took a healthy swallow from the glass, and then another, and then seemed to pull herself together.
“You’re here about the Coe woman,” she announced. “Deputy Marsten, I thought that I answered all your questions last summer.”
Marsten smiled. “Yes’m,” he said. “But these are federal agents, and they have some questions of their own.”
Ash said, “We’re here about your daughter-in-law, Mrs. Richardson.”
Richardson’s face changed. Her eyes blazed with fury.
“That little slut was never my daughter-in-law!”
Marsten cleared his throat. “Uh, Miz Richardson, we were given to think—”
Richardson jumped up, went to a writing desk, and returned with a framed photo of a handsome young man in Army dress blues. She thrust the picture into Ash’s hands,
“My son was young, and he was foolish, as the young are often so inclined, and he made the mistake of impregnating that woman—but I would never have allowed him to marry her, had he even considered it,” she said, glaring Ash and Will in turn.
Ash said, “Please excuse our mistake. To whom was Sharon Coe married?”
“To a man of her own class. Lincoln Coe, an enlisted soldier who married her, I believe, out of pity for her loss. After Jeff was born, they parted ways.”
Will said, “You speak of her loss. What was that?”
“My son, you oaf! Jefferson Jackson Richardson IV was a decorated Army aviator. His Blackhawk helicopter disappeared over Afghanistan ten years ago, when she was five months along.”
Richardson took another long sip of her drink.
Will said, “Allow us to offer our belated condolences for your loss.”
“Belated is just right. Did you know that it took the United States Government seven years before they decided to pay his life insurance and death benefit!”
Ash said, “That would have been paid to you, Mrs. Richardson?”
“Of course. It’s all in trust for little Jeff’s education. And now that his trollop of a mother has gone to her reward, I can ensure that he is properly brought up. Not to speak ill of the dead, but that woman was not much of a mother to my grandson.”
Ash said, “Can you think of anyone who would want to kill her, Mrs. Richardson?”
“She slept with men from the base. Different ones. And she hardly worked these last years, though I don’t entirely blame her for that. I lay that at the feet of our former president, who hates our country, and did nothing for its citizens except raise our taxes and break our laws.
“Now that that Muslim is back with his goats, things are getting better for the lower classes. I understand that she was going to get that job at Wal-Mart.”
Marsten nodded. “That was our understanding as well.”
Will said, “Do you know who she dated from Fort Rucker? Do you have any names?”
“Certainly not!”
She rose from her chair and indicated the front door. “You may show yourselves out.”
Chapter 27
Ash, Will and Detective Marsten trooped down the stairs from the house and gathered on the sidewalk.
Marsten looked at his watch. “Almost 7:00. We should knock off and pick it up again tomorrow. I mean, if you’re coming back. I mean, this is a dead end. Nobody around here knows nothing, right?”
Ash said, “It looks that way. Thanks for your help, Deputy, we’ll find our way back to the base.”
She grabbed his hand, squeezed it until Marsten paled, then turned to go.
Will said, “Thanks again.”
Will got in the Santa Fe and Ash climbed behind the wheel. As Marsten got into his car, she started the engine, glanced at her mirrors, pulled out into the empty residential street, and roared off.
“What’s the hurry?”
“Watch and learn, Grasshopper,” she said. A block down, she turned the corner, then made a quick right into a wide alley. She zipped down the alley for two blocks, made a right onto the street, where she killed the headlights, then turned right at the corner.
Ash said, “Your phone got a video camera?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Get it out.”
They were on the corner, five houses down from Chez Richardson, and as Will and Ash watched, Marsten get out of his parked car, looked both ways down the street, and mounted the
steps to Richardson’s home.
A moment later the door opened and Marsten stepped inside. The door closed.
Ash said. “Get that?’
Will said, “Yes. How did you know?”
“Truck Stop is a micro-brew made about 200 miles from here, in Gadsden. It’s hard to find around here. Our esteemed sheriff’s deputy asked for it in a tone of voice implying that he expected her to have it. Ergo, he was familiar with the contents of her larder. How could that be?
“Listen to your gut, Grasshopper. It is seldom wrong.”
Chapter 28
With an address from the print-out furnished by Sheriff Taliaferro, Will used the GPS on his phone to locate the Bloom house, a well-kept, older brick home on a suburban street of toy-littered lawns. Ash drove by the house and parked around the corner.
Rachel Bloom was in her early forties, as warm and gracious as Mrs. Richardson had been cold and officious. Short and plump, with dark hair, dimples, and a ready smile, she shooed her two children into their room to play, then brought out coffee and cookies.
“Sharon was a wonderful mother,” she told them. “She worked in a coffee shop for breakfast and lunch and then a weekend dinner shift at a Japanese steakhouse in Enterprise. But she got by—until about a month before she disappeared. A national chain bought the coffee shop and closed it for remodeling. There was no guarantee that she’d be hired back when it re-opened.
“When she heard that Wal-Mart was hiring, she thought that a position there might bring more stability to her life.”
Will said, “Did you ever babysit for her?”
Bloom smiled. “Of course. Jeff is a nice boy, a little rambunctious at times, but polite and very sweet. He goes to school with my Mort, and I was happy to have him stay here evenings when she was working.”
Ash said, “How well did you know Sharon?”
Bloom smiled. “We were close. About eleven years ago she rented our basement apartment. It’s just one room, with a bathroom and kitchenette. When Jeff got to be about three, she needed a bigger place, and we—my husband and I—helped her find a two-room place down the street.”
