Mountain Justice

by Phillip W Price

  I found Dalton Paving just north of town. I pulled up front and got out with my pad-folio in hand. As soon as my feet hit the ground, a man came out front. He was walking toward a pickup truck that must have easily cost eighty thousand dollars. It was loaded with lights, a roll bar and brush guard, and big heavy tires. When he saw me, he diverted. “Can I help you?” he said.

  “Yes, sir, I’m looking for Coleman Dalton.”

  The man looked to be in his early sixties. His pants were work pants that were worn and faded. He looked like he spent most of his life outdoors. He stopped walking. “That would be me. What can I do for you?”

  I showed him my credentials. He looked them over and then looked back at me. “I’m Daniel Byrd, with the GBI. I’m looking for information about the work your company does for Gilmer County. I know you do most of the paving for them. I’m just looking for some information about how they do business, Mr. Dalton.”

  He laughed. He had a broad smile and an easy manner. He seemed a little nervous to be answering my questions, but I felt confident he would tell me the truth. He seemed like a good ole boy doing business with other good ole boys. “Call me Cole. And I’m surprised it has taken this long for somebody to come looking. I asked the Dawson County Sheriff if anything could be done about their shenanigans. He told me the politics over there were too strong and to steer clear of all the folks in that courthouse.

  “That crowd over there will do any underhanded thing. They put out a Request for Bids for paving several years ago. I had been doing plenty of work in Dawson County and had no interest in growing, but one of the old Commissioners—don’t ask me his name, he’s not in office anymore—he came to me wanting us to bid. Said he couldn’t get other companies to bid because the jobs were too small. I fell for it, and we put in a bid. Surprise, we got it. I found out later we were the only bidders. The other people in the business won’t touch ’em.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “Kickbacks for one. They wanted me to give a fourth of what I was paid back into some holding company. I told them I wouldn’t make enough money to make it worth the time. Offered to drop the contract. They finally gave up. But they still cut every corner they can. I’ve even heard they’ve altered invoices I’ve submitted. Now we send them invoices on security paper. Probably doesn’t do a damned thing, but it makes me feel like I am doing something to stick it to that bunch of crooks over there. I wish I had never taken a contact to work over there.”

  “Is there any documentation of any of this?”

  He shook his head. “Not anything on paper. No, all this was done face to face with the Commission Chairman and, I think, the Sheriff from over there. They tried to muscle me, but I’ve been in business too long to fall for their brand of bullshit.”

  I nodded. “So, other than trying to put the arm on you, they never got you to overbill or give anyone cash under the table.”

  Again, he shook his head. “They didn’t want anything on paper that might come back to them. I have copies of the original invoices, those might help you.”

  “Do you remember the name of the holding company they wanted you to pay?”

  “Nope. Been way too long for me to remember that.”

  “Sure. Anything else you can think of that I need to know?”

  He thought for a minute. “They came to me about three years ago, wanted to get me to lay some pipe from Ellijay’s water plant to a house up on Fort Mountain.”

  “Did you do that?”

  “I have the equipment, but they wouldn’t have paid me enough to do it. My folks are pavers, not plumbers. It wouldn’t be worth my time.”

  “So, they wanted to run one line up Fort Mountain to a house?”

  “Yep, I asked whose house it was. They told me but then told me they were joking and to forget about it.”

  “I don’t guess you remember whose house it was, do you.”

  He smiled. “I normally wouldn’t, but the home owner does some work around the courthouse here in Dawsonville. I see her in there all the time. Her name is Linda Pelfrey. I think her daddy is a Judge over there.”

  He watched me making notes. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. “Am I going to have to go to court on these folks? They seem like a pretty rough bunch. All I do is pave roads.”

  I looked him over. His face was red from long hours in the sun. His hands were big and looked rough from years of work. But he wore expensive boots and jeans.

  I shrugged. “You look like you can handle yourself.”

  He laughed. “I can. But I’d rather not have to.”

  “Just call me if they give you any static,” I said.

  He gave me a wry look. “Who do I call if they get to you?”

  It was my turn to smile. “You may have a point.”

  After I got his contact information, I thanked Cole and headed back to Blue Ridge. Once I crossed into Gilmer County I had a sense of dread. It seemed like that county line marked the start of another country. A place where public officials were willing to kill to keep what they had. This case was starting to get to me.

  I was listening closely to the police radio for anyone to mention I had been spotted. I knew my truck was no longer anonymous, but I hoped it was ordinary looking enough to still slide through the county without sending off alarms.

  I made my way back to the parkway and turned north without hearing any calls on the Gilmer County radio channels. Soon, I was making my way into Fannin County.

  Rose was busy with her children and family for this Friday night, so I decided to get something to eat and then set up surveillance on Linda Pelfrey’s house.

  I rushed through a meal at a chain submarine sandwich place. Then I changed into dark-colored jeans and a dark shirt. I brought out my camera and binoculars and put them within easy reach. I was taking a chance that, once I was up on the mountain, I could reach the GBI Radio Room on my car radio.

  The road up the side of the mountain would have been fun in a sports car. About a quarter mile from the crest of the mountain, Linda Pelfrey’s house was all lit up, even though sunset was still about an hour away. I went on past and looked for a place to park my car and get a good look around. On my left was a little dirt road that looked like it had been used by loggers. My truck was tall and took the rough trail with ease. I got out of sight of the main road and parked. Hopping down, I scanned for snakes. I wanted to get a look at the house. At first, I wasn’t having any luck. I thought about going down the side of the mountain a few yards, but the prospect of running up on a timber rattler kept me on the road bed. I followed the dirt path around as it went further into the woods. After a walk of about a quarter of a mile, I found a big rock jutting out of the ground. When I climbed up on the rock, I was rewarded with a clear view of the southwestern corner of Linda Pelfrey’s house.

  After a brisk walk back to the truck, I gathered my surveillance gear. The altitude allowed me to contact the Radio Room on the GBI statewide radio system. Through the static, I notified the operator I was on surveillance. Emma was working that night. I told her I would be out for a few hours and she reminded me to call by phone when I settled down for the night. I responded in the affirmative.

  All I needed were my binoculars, a camera, and a sleeping bag from my truck. I put the binoculars and the camera where they were near me on the rock. After laying the sleeping bag on the rock, I made myself as comfortable as possible, figuring I was in for a long wait.

  I experimented with the binoculars and the camera, getting the focus adjusted on both. Shortly, the sun went down behind my back. There was still enough light to recognize the Mercedes SUV I had seen earlier as it pulled into the driveway. The SUV waited for the garage door to open and then pulled inside the garage. As the door came back down, Linda Pelfrey got out and went inside the house.

  More lights came on around the house. The house’s back deck was lit by a series of lights on a cable. The sun was over the horizon behind me, and I had to be careful not
to silhouette myself for the time being. The house lights would make it harder for anyone in the house to see me.

  I heard another car coming up the driveway, but its headlights made it hard for me to see what kind of car it was. The car didn’t come around to the garage, it circled around to the front of the house. Muffled voices sounded from the front of the house but I couldn’t make out words.

  I was beginning to think I was wasting my time when the back door to the deck flew open. Linda Pelfrey came out completely nude. Her body looked firm, like she worked out, and was tanned all over.

  She was followed by a man I hadn’t seen. He was naked, as well. She had something in her hands, and I couldn’t make it out at first. Then I saw her bend over a table and lay out a piece of aluminum foil. She worked to crush something and then brought out a lighter. She held the foil up and ran the lighter underneath. Then she put a glass tube in her mouth and inhaled the smoke. She was smoking meth.

  Soon, the man took a turn. He had a farmer’s tan and was very muscular. The tan pattern suggested he worked outdoors. He leaned in and inhaled deeply. Then he leaned back and took the drugs deep into his lungs. His penis rose to full erection, standing out from his body.

  Linda whooped and dropped to her knees. She leaned in to his crotch and started working his member. He was still standing with his back arched, looking skyward. I could hear one or both making grunting noises.

  After a couple of minutes of this, the man grabbed Linda under her arms and pulled her to her feet. He pushed her around until she was bent over the railing around the deck. Then he entered her with a deep grunt. She writhed around and made squealing noises. He was grinding and thrusting and holding onto the railing to give himself leverage. She would turn and say things to him, but I couldn’t make out the words.

  This went on for a good thirty minutes. They didn’t seem to get tired, but they would change positions often. At one point, he laid down on the deck and she mounted him by squatting over him. She bounced like a rodeo rider. I couldn’t believe that his meth hard-on was lasting like this. He didn’t seem to be slowing down.

  Soon, Linda was howling like a wild animal. She was cursing and might have been crying. She would shake like she was having a seizure and then she would slump down for a second and regroup.

  After almost an hour, she got off of him and went back to the table. He followed and stood behind her, reaching around and rubbing her breasts. She got the meth going and used the pipe to bump. Using the camera zoom, I was able to get some fair pictures, even in the low light.

  After she took a deep draw on the pipe, she passed it to him. He took a deep draw and then grabbed his penis with his hand and started running around the deck. He stroked his manhood for a couple of seconds, then he bent Linda over the table and took her again.

  By now, it was close to 9:00 p.m., and they didn’t seem to be planning to finish anytime soon. I had been trained that meth was a sexual stimulant and that men on meth could have sex for long periods of time without losing their erection. Apparently, my training had been accurate.

  Exactly an hour and forty minutes had passed since they came out on the deck. Finally, they held hands and went back inside, looking like the love birds they pictured themselves to be.

  I had been waiting about twenty minutes when more headlights came up the driveway. This time, after about fifteen more minutes, Linda came back outside with the first man and another male friend. Linda and her original man were still as naked as the day they were born. The new guy was in a uniform. He was taller but much heavier than guy number one. I was pretty sure it was Cliff Mitchell, Rose’s soon-to-be-ex. The zoom lenses on the camera helped me to confirm his identity.

  Cliff hung his gun belt over a part of the railing, dropped his pants, and pulled his shirt over his head. Soon they were all piled up doing things I had only read about in Penthouse. They were far too involved to see or hear me leaving.

  I got up and made my way back to my truck. It was like I had spent the last two hours or so watching a bad porn movie.

  I got my truck loaded, fired it up without any lights, and then backed out to the road. I drove back into town and found the Pelfrey offices. I pulled into the gravel lot because there was no place to park on the street.

  After about five minutes of quiet, I slipped out of the truck and made my way across the street. I had brought a folding knife and a flashlight. In the dark, the stain on the wall wasn’t as obvious. Probably the angle of the sun had made the stain visible. I tried getting farther away and shining the light from different angles. No stain, but I decided to see what the holes in the wall offered.

  I shined the light into one hole and didn’t see anything right away. I jogged back to my Expedition and got a brown paper evidence bag. Once I was back at the wall, I dug around in the hole. I took pieces of the wood siding and dropped them into the bag. Then I dug around a little more and found something even more interesting. It was a buck shot pellet that had been painted over. The lead shot was badly deformed. There is no way to match lead shot to a particular shotgun, I thought, but dropped it into the bag anyway.

  Presently, I was on my way back to the parkway and to my motel. The room wasn’t any more welcoming. I mixed a stout drink and took a long sip. When I sat the glass down, I called the Radio Room and told them I was safe in my room. After I hung up, I showered quickly, finished off the drink, and then climbed into bed. My sleep was restless. I finally dozed off around 3:00 a.m.

  I slept late on Saturday morning. After I got up and got dressed, I drove down to Ellijay and looked over the square. Lots of people were in town. Mostly tourists looking for artifacts of hillbilly life or authentic Ellijay apples. I got out on foot and walked to where I could see the parking lot for the Sheriff’s Office, but there was only a single marked car in the lot. Everything looked dead. The sun was bright that day, yet I still had a sense of foreboding while I was in the area. And the courthouse building, looking down at me as I made my way around the square, didn’t help.

  I thought about what I needed to be able to prove a case. The corruption aspect was coming together. I knew I was getting close to figuring out what was going on with that.

  Harris’ murder was another matter. I might have a place where something happened to someone that might tie back to the Senior Judge of the circuit I was in. I would be laughed out of the courthouse, or any courthouse for that matter, if I tried to bring a case based on what I had. Even if the buckshot was shot at Harris and went into the building, I had no way to determine when Harris was killed. I was not confident I was making any progress on that front.

  I sat on a bench in the square and was deep in thought when someone sat beside me on the bench. I should have been more aware, so I couldn’t help but look surprised when I realized Linda Pelfrey had joined me. She was dressed casually but still looked like money. She was a pretty woman, but her eyes looked hollow.

  “GBI man. Enjoying the tourist life while you’re in our little town?” she asked.

  I smiled back at her. “Pretty much. I wanted to get the feel of the area. I guess I’ll be working up here and in the other counties around for a few years. Might as well try to fit in.”

  She nodded. “I get that. I grew up here, and sometimes I think I don’t fit in. Daddy was a big deal here, so people were stand-offish. I never had any really close friends till I went away to college.”

  I wanted her to get comfortable talking to me. “Where did you go to school?”

  “UGA. Undergraduate and Law School. Some of the best days of my life,” she laughed to herself. “I developed all my bad habits in school. I drink too much and I tend to fall into bed with the wrong kind of men.”

  I shrugged. “Everybody has baggage. I didn’t drink at all till I started working undercover. Now, I guess I drink more than I should. Like I said, none of us are perfect. How does your dad feel about you practicing here?”

  “Oh, I’m carrying on Daddy’s legacy. As a trained investi
gator, you will have noted that I still carry the Pelfrey name, even though I have been married three times.”

  “I noticed, but a gentleman doesn’t mention those kinds of things.”

  Linda smiled at that. She seemed to be in deep thought for a moment. Then she turned toward me. “I guess I’ve always had to deal with my daddy’s expectations for me. In a way, I still rebel against his mighty ruling hand in my life.”

  “I guess he wants what’s best for you. But I can imagine that makes it hard to always be in his shadow. Is the firm you run passed down from the Judge?”

  She shrugged. “Such as it is. He left me with an office and some business. I took things over when he got the judgeship. It wasn’t as though I had a choice. He has been building this power base, this empire as he sees it.” She almost seemed wistful. “He probably wanted a son. The old bastard would have loved to have another king of his domain.”

  “You’re an only child?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Rumor has it I’m not even his. Who the hell knows. And it doesn’t really matter. Either way, I’m here to stay. On for the full ride.”

  “Well, it seems like the Judge has done what he could to see you have a good life.”

  “He did what he thought he had to. My mother would have ruined him if he had abandoned us.” She thought about things for a minute. She hung her head. “I guess that’s harsh. I think he would have killed for me, or had it done. Or maybe he would only do that for himself.”

  I acted confused. “What does that mean?”

  She seemed to shake it off. “Nothing. Old family issues, I guess.”

  I watched her closely. She seemed to be thinking miles away from where we sat.

  When she didn’t elaborate, I finally said, “Like I said, we all have our issues.”