“Damn, that sounds so damn good. Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Hell, chief, I wanted to make damn sure Stan wasn’t killed by a local. Somebody you could arrest and charge. Nice end. This way, it’s just speculation. We can close the case but we may never know who actually did it. Besides, I just couldn’t remember it.”
“Yeah, I get you. Been there myself. Consequences of old age, old buddy.”
“Yeah,” Bishop agreed.
The chief hung up and called the Jackson chief to ask the question Bishop had left him with.
About thirty minutes later, the chief called Bishop with the results of his Jackson conversation.
“Okay, Bishop. You’re thought was a good one. Not exactly what happened but in the ball park. Here’s what actually happened. One of Perlin’s men survived and surrendered to the other gang. That’s from witnesses who watched the shoot-out. They got into a van and left. Perlin’s survivor was found a couple of days later. Stan was killed the next day.”
“So,” Bishop said, “the other gang might have made him talk, assuming he knew about the coke box, and paid Stan a visit to pick it up. Got into an argument or something, and Stan ended up getting shot.”
“Write it up. It’ll sell. We’ll close the son of a bitch,” Jenkins said. “Good job. You’re a few days from being de-commissioned.”
“Won’t hurt my feelings,” Bishop said.
He turned back to his computer to type up his report.
Before he could, a noise outside got his attention. He got up and turned on the outside lights. He saw nothing from the back porch so he hurried to the front. There he saw three white tailed deer running down the drive way to safety from the outside lights. They’d knocked over the deer feeder he’d erected. He’d fix it the next day.
He reminded himself to get more security cameras. Next time it might not be the deer.
He went back to his computer. It was hot. Hot enough for the air conditioner, but he was reluctant to give in and incur the bill it’d take to run it. Instead, he got up and turned on the fan. That’d cool him and wouldn’t cost nearly as much.
It was then that another thought he’d had came into his thoughts again.
Crazy-assed day, he thought. All sorts of shit keeps cropping up. Why were the lights turned off? Would I do that if I just shot a guy?
He finished his final report to the chief and closed with a comment. “I’m going to have one more look at Stan’s office with Hank Thomas, but it’s just for my peace of mind in case I’ve forgotten something. This is your final report, however. Sorry it doesn’t have a body attached. Enjoy it in good health. See you for a beer tomorrow.”
*****
“Hank,” Bishop said, when he called the senior Thomas after he’d sent his report to the chief.
“Yeah?” Thomas said.
“I’d like to get into Stan’s office for a last look around before I wind up my investigation. Actually I’ve wound it up, but I still want a last look at it for my peace of mind. Would you meet me there and let me in? We gave you back all the keys,” Bishop said.
“My boy’s dead, and you’re still fuckin’ around. Why in the hell do you think I’d want to go back there just now? Hell, I need some damn time to put it behind me. Can’t you just ask me about it? I know every inch of that office.”
“When I’m investigating, I need to be on site.”
“You ever heard of a parent’s grief? You’re a cold-blooded bastard.”
“I understand what you’re saying, and I apologize for putting you through it, but it won’t take me more than a few minutes to have a last look. Couple of things bother me. You might be able to help, but you can stand in the hall unless I have a question for you.”
“You’re a pushy bastard, Bone. You act like you don’t know your ass from left field. I tell you, if you weren’t working for the police, I’d tell you to stick your request up you ass! But since you’re their so-called “special investigator” or some such crap, I’ll meet you in fifteen for you to have your last damned look around. Then, I don’t ever want to see you again.”
“You’ve got it, Mr. Thomas. Maybe thirty minutes of your time, total and I’m history.”
“Good.” Thomas said and hung up.
Bishop got into his jeep and drove to Lawton. Thomas drove up a few seconds behind him.
Bishop greeted him, but Thomas didn’t respond. Bishop followed him into the elevator. Upstairs, he opened his son’s office door and gestured for Bishop to enter.
Bishop went into Stan’s office, paused at the door for a look around then walked to the front of his desk and stared first at it then back at the area of the door. As he did, another thought entered his mind. Well, hell. I wonder.
He turned to face Stan’s father who had come in and was standing in the doorway behind him.
“Something’s been bothering me since Stan was found,” Bishop said. “That’s why I wanted a last look.”
“What the hell bothers you! Good God! I tell you, I’m sick and tired of you Bone. You’ve got just minutes for your last look and I’m locking the office door.”
“Uptight, are you? Well, I’ll tell you. I just had another thought to go with the one I came here with. When I was here the day he was found, the office lights were out. The switch is on the wall to your right.”
“I know where the damn switch is.”
“I guess you do. But it struck me as odd that a killer would take the time to turn off the lights after he’d shot your son.”
He looked at Mr. Thomas with half a smile, and added, “Unless he was the kind of killer who wanted to save money.”
Thomas shrugged, with a twist of his head. “Get on with it, Bone. I want to get home.”
“I will. Stan’s secretary told me Stan never turned off the lights until he was leaving. Well, he wasn’t leaving that day. He was already dead.”
“A nut case. That’s what you are, Bone. A damned nut case. You dragged me down here to tell me that? To tell me my son was dead. I think I knew that. And what the hell does the light mean. Hell, he probably turned it off. It was broad daylight.” His face looked as if it had turned to stone and he turned as if he was going to leave.
“I thought of that too. So I wanted to come here again to see where the switch was, relative to his desk. It just didn’t make sense that he’d walk over to turn the light off, then go back to his chair and wait to be shot. Then I remembered how you sat on your porch with your fan off. Saving a few cents. Somebody told me that you were a skin flint. I remembered that too. So standing here, thinking about the lights being out, I also asked myself about the shot to your son’s head. He was shot point blank. Seems to me if somebody’s threatening to kill me, I’m not going to sit there and wait to be shot. I’m going to be fighting. And, I bet your son would have too.”
“Unless he got shot before he knew what was happening,” Hank said.
“Always a possibility. All theories have holes in them, but I began to think some more. Suppose the shooter was somebody he knew? That somebody could stand close without it bothering Stan. And, if the shooter was a skin flint, like you are, he’d turn the lights off when he left.”
“Full of cow manure, you are, Bone. Are you saying I killed my son? Is that what are you getting at? Good God! I can’t believe it!” he reached out with his arms as if disgusted.
“What I’m thinking is this. The shooter was somebody close, somebody like a father who hated drug dealers, like you, Hank, just like you. One who’s other son, the apple of his eye, had been killed, in effect, by a drug dealer. And, by the way, from what I hear, you hate drug dealers. Probably for that reason. I believe you told Sheriff Jackson, in so many words, that they should be shot.”
“So what? Do you love ‘em? I reckon you do. Well, they should be shot! Right now, I’m thinking you should be too, standing here reminding me of my grief.”
“I doubt it. I’m talking about you right now, what I think you did. I don
’t see any grief in it. I see hate in it. But let’s just step back and say this – let’s say the shooter’s favorite son was killed by drugs, like yours, and lo and behold, the shooter finds out that his second son is dealing in drugs. A second son who’s always been a bit lazy and a disappointment. A son who still needs his father’s support. I’m thinking that makes all the things that have been bothering me begin to make sense, and … well, they all point to you as the killer of your son. I bet you agree. Don’t you?” Bishop pointed a finger at Thomas.
“You’re a dumb shit, Bone, and you’re getting up my back with all your wild assed accusations. I can’t believe you’re actually accusing me of killing my own son! What an inconsiderate … thoughtless shit you are. I was at home. My wife told you, I believe.”
“You don’t know it, I guess, but I talked to the other tenants. The doctor was in. She had an emergency patient and she heard you. Walls are thin…” He pointed to the wall between the suites.
Thomas laughed and waved his hand at Bishop. “More of your lawyer bull shit! There was nobody in the building. I ch-. Ah, one of your lawyer tricks, Bone. Got me to make a slip of the tongue. Well, so what if I did kill the lazy, drug dealing bastard. Good God. He was no better than the son of a bitch who killed my good son. I don’t think my admission will do you any good though. Nobody’s gonna believe that I’d kill my only son. You’d be laughed out of town. Hell, the mayor’s my good friend. So’s the sheriff. I also know the governor, lots of important people.”
“I know.”
“Clever, but you must have shit for brains if you think anybody would go to court with no evidence. Your imaginary clues. A light switch, and a point blank head shot. The judge would have to call a recess until everybody quit laughing. Well, good luck, Bone.”
“I appreciate your support and your confession, Mr. Thomas.”
“Bullshit. Nobody’s gonna believe I confessed to you about anything. Not without any evidence. A light switch and a point blank head shot.” He laughed. “Get real. Not enough to come close to becoming a criminal charge. Go home, Bone, have a couple of beers and sleep it off.”
He turned to leave.
Bishop pulled his iPhone out of his shirt pocket and waved it at Thomas. “Not so, Mr. Thomas. I have your confession right here. All recorded. Your voice.” He pointed his phone and pushed a button. “And, now I have your picture with it.”
That stopped the man cold. “Son of a bitch,” he said. “Tricked me again. You may be a little smarter than I gave you credit for. But maybe not.”
With that, he pulled an automatic out of his jacket pocket and pointed it at Bishop. “I’m a good shot in case you get any ideas.”
Shit, Bishop thought. I’ve just made a terminal screw up. I should have thought the man might come armed if he was guilty. But hell, he wasn’t really a suspect until I got to thinking. Well, I guess this is it. Maybe the chief will have a thinking spell like I did, put two and two together and figure Thomas did it. I won’t know it, but maybe I will solve the case by dying.
“People know I’m here. They know I’m meeting with you,” Bishop said, hoping the man will buy his lie.
“Tough shit. I was never here. Emma will swear to that. I don’t know who you met but it wasn’t me and I’ll have your cell phone. It’ll end up in my pond with my gun and that box of drugs I took from Stan’s closet. It’ll look like you let yourself in with the key I told you was under the door mat.”
He held out his free hand and wiggled his fingers to indicate he wanted Bishop to hand over his phone.
“I can shoot you first, if you’d prefer. Might be more fun,” he told Bishop who hadn’t moved since he’d seen the gun pointed at him.
As anybody does when facing death, they do anything to buy a few more seconds, hoping for a miracle. Bishop handed him the phone. Thomas shoved it into his pocket.
Then, he backed up half a stride and pointed the gun squarely at Bishop. “If you have any prayers, now is the time to say them. Just say them out loud if you want.”
Bishop gave him half a laugh. “I don’t have anything to pray about, Thomas, so go ahead and shoot. The chief will have you in jail by evening.”
Hank laughed. “I guess that’s your prayer. Good bye, Bone. The world’s gonna be a better place.” His hand tightened on the gun.
Just then, Chief Jenkins walked through the office door, his Glock pointed at the man. “Drop it, Hank or I’ll drop you.”
Hank quickly glanced at him, and the life went out of him. He looked back at Bishop and said, “Tell Emma I love her.”
He swung the gun up to his head but the chief had his hand on it and pulled it away as he was pulling the trigger. It ended up pointed at Bishop when it went off. Bishop saw what was happening and dived to the floor. Hank’s bullet tore through Bishop’s jacket but missed hitting him.
The policemen with the chief took Thomas into custody. He was charged the next day. Freddie Meyers defended him, but it did little good. Hank was convicted and received a life sentence.
That was Freddie’s last case. Somebody reported him to the bar association, which suspended him for a year. Freddie left the state and opened an office in Alabama. Last anybody heard, he was doing reasonably well. Just got out of the hospital after a jealous ex-husband beat him up for having an affair with his wife while they were in divorce proceedings. He told somebody he might have to leave the state and move to Florida.
Margo and Bryant were convicted for selling drugs and received a sentence of five years each. Margo got a pardon after a year.
Angel, Garcia, and Silvia were also arrested as part of the drug ring for growing marijuana. Garcia and Silvia were deported. Angel received a three-year sentence, two of which were suspended. since it was his was a first offense.
*****
Bishop paid a visit to Emma the day after Hank was shot. He told her what he knew about Hank’s actions from Hank’s conversation with him.
“I hate to say it, Emma, but I think when George was killed, it … let me say it this way, that darkened his soul. And when he learned that Stan was selling the drugs that, in effect, had killed George, he kind of went crazy.
She nodded her head. “I know he began acting funny. Didn’t sleep much. Got up during the night. Sometimes got coffee. Sometimes he poured himself a glass of whiskey. “
“I’m sorry,” Bishop said.
“Me too. I cried myself to sleep. It was pitiful to watch. He hated drug dealers because they killed George. George was his favorite. He often talked about how he and George were going to develop roadside fruit and vegetables stands.”
She had to stop and leave the room to wipe her eyes.
“Sorry,” she said when she came back. “It’s hard for me to talk about it. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I just don’t know.”
“Do you have anybody you can talk to?” Bishop asked.
“Our Preacher’s been by a couple of times. He’s coming by for dinner this weekend. He just lost his wife last year, so he knows what I’m going through.”
Thank goodness for the Preacher. Maybe he’ll get her through it.
Bishop told her if he could ever help, all she had to do was call.
The next contact he had with her was an announcement of her upcoming wedding with the Preacher.
“Thank goodness,” Bishop told Kathy.
They went to the wedding. Emma looked lovely.
Some weeks later, the chief and Bishop sat on his back porch with Kathy and reminisced about the case.
“I guess I’ll learn not to doubt you, Bishop,” the chief said after taking a long drink of beer.
“Just got lucky,” Bishop said. “I came to the office to have one last look and as I did, I suddenly realized that Thomas was probably the killer. I told him hoping I could get him to admit it, since I didn’t have much in the way of proof. That was stupid. It almost got me killed, and would have, if it hadn’t been for you. I thank you.”
“The newspape
rs gave me some credit.”
“I saw. What made you come to the office?”
“I got to thinking after I read your report, in particular the last paragraph, that your hunches pay off now and then. I figured you had a hunch even if you didn’t say it. And you hadn’t found anybody else, specifically, who had done it. I know we had the gang thing, but I doubted you were totally satisfied. I wasn’t. So I had to consider that you might be following another one of your hunches – and you were.” He laughed and said, “I figured I should be close in case you decided to attack the man, like you did Bryant and ole Freddie.”
Bishop and Kathy both laughed.
The End
Death of the Weed Merchant Page 18
