Beech Mountain Breeze

by Ed Robinson

  Twenty

  Two days passed before we heard the first word about what was going on. The waiting, and the not knowing, was driving both of us crazy. I was relieved to see Rominger coming down the driveway. Finally, we’d learn something.

  “Long story,” he said. “You got a minute?”

  “We’re all ears,” I said. “I’ll put some coffee on.”

  “Miss Brody,” he said, taking his hat off as he came inside.

  “Good to see you, Rominger,” she said. “You’re the closest thing we have to a friend up here. You’re always welcome in our home.”

  “I’ll get right to it,” he said. “It looks like you’re going to have to bring the hermit to court.”

  “The Chief’s still not talking?” I asked.

  “Not really,” he said. “Only through his lawyer. He indicates that he will plead not guilty to any charges we can bring.”

  “What’s his strategy?” I asked. “His son is dead and gone. Why not give it up?”

  “I’m just the bearer of news,” he said. “I’m no lawyer, but he’s got an expensive one. If you ask me, I think he’s banking on the hermit’s testimony being a bust.”

  “If he can’t be put at the scene, could he skate?” I asked.

  “Your friend Tyler Scott is the only one that can connect him to this entire mess,” he said. “If he doesn’t show, the Chief walks. If the defense can tear apart the witness, he also stands a chance of getting off. At this point, a jury may show sympathy due to the death of his son. Everyone assumes the son is the killer. Why punish the father? I think his strategy is sound.”

  “But he covered it up,” I said. “He disposed of the body. He’s a law enforcement officer. He’s supposed to be on the side of justice.”

  “I’m sure you’ve thought of this,” he said. “But a jury is going to give him a lot of leeway. Half the potential juror pool would protect their own offspring.”

  “They might if it was them,” I said. “But they’ll hold a cop to a higher standard.”

  “He’s still human,” he said. “One who’s lost his kid and whose wife is in the nut hut.”

  “A very sympathetic character,” Brody said. “But the truth is still the truth.”

  “I’m not a lawyer, like I told you,” he said. “But the hermit had better be damn good, or the Chief will go free. That’s my take on it. That’s what the Chief’s counsel is depending on.”

  “Innocent until proven guilty,” Brody said. “Plus reasonable doubt. Basic American legal standards.”

  “Meanwhile, the car is positive for the girl’s DNA,” Rominger said. “So is the blood at the resort. We’ve got serious evidence against somebody in the Chief’s family. One of them killed the girl. Of that, there is no doubt.”

  “Which seriously hurts the defense case,” I said. “The Chief is holding onto a very fine thread.”

  “He doesn’t have to prove his son’s innocence,” he said. “Only his own. Without the hermit, he can’t be tied to any of it.”

  “I get it,” Brody said. “His only crime is dumping the body. That’s the only way he participated. If we can’t prove that, then he’s home free.”

  “Correct,” Rominger said. “Therefore, you are back on the payroll. Bringing the witness to court is of the utmost importance. I should add that bringing him in Daniel Boone clothes won’t be a lot of help. We don’t need a mail bomber look-alike as our star witness.”

  “I need to follow up on his immunity first,” I said. “Then I’ll need a court date.”

  “The wheels of justice turn slowly,” he said. “An actual court appearance could be months away. Depending on how hard the defense drags its heels.”

  “His lawyer is Joshua Dorman,” I said. “Find out how that negotiation is going. Put some pressure on somebody. It’s important that your witness won’t feel threatened.”

  “The warrants were pursued by the Chief,” he said. “A clear conflict of interest. I don’t think it’s going to be a problem. There is no movement on Beech Mountain to have the hermit arrested.”

  “He won’t assume safe passage until he has it in writing,” I said. “His freedom is very important to him. He’s a pretty sharp guy. He’s not the image you have in your mind.”

  “He is still a small-time thief,” he said. “Romanticize him all you want.”

  “He knows that,” I said. “That’s why we need the immunity.”

  “Does it come with a promise to cease his activities?”

  “No, it does not,” I said. “But I can’t speak for him. I can only relay messages.”

  “I’m sure the DA will let him slide in exchange for his testimony,” he said. “The Chief is a much bigger fish.”

  “That’s what we’re counting on,” I said. “Exert whatever influence you have.”

  “That’s his lawyer’s responsibility,” he said. “But I’ll put in a good word.”

  “We’ll go speak to the lawyer later today,” I said. “Thanks for the update.”

  By the time we made it to Dorman’s office, there had been further developments. The Chief was being charged with accessory liability. The charge claimed that after the fact, the Chief assisted the offender in order to prevent his apprehension. It carried a sentence of up to fifteen years in prison. Various obstruction charges were tacked on for good measure, but would likely be dropped if the defendant accepted a plea deal.

  No one wanted to worry about the hermit’s petty crimes, only that he testify. He would be granted immunity. I had to not only get the word to Tyler Scott, but also bring him in to speak with his lawyer and the District Attorney’s Office. If the case went to trial, he’d have to return to civilization yet again. It all rested on his appearance and credible testimony. There was still no other solid evidence tying the Chief to the crime.

  “Without a murder trial for the son,” Dorman said. “The case against the Chief rests entirely with Tyler Scott. Without him, it all falls apart. All the well-founded suspicions in the world won’t put the father behind bars.”

  “I’ll do my best to bring him in,” I said. “But understand, it’s not up to me. Scott has to do this willingly. You can subpoena him if you want, but good luck finding him.”

  “If we did subpoena him and he failed to appear, would you lead law enforcement to him?”

  “I would not,” I said. “I promised that the decision was his and his alone. It seemed to persuade him to cooperate.”

  “Interesting dilemma,” he said. “What if the court compelled you to cooperate?”

  “Do you mean to force me to reveal his location?” I asked.

  “Hypothetically,” he said.

  “I suspect they’d have an equally hard time finding me,” I said. “I’ve been the driving force behind solving this case. I’ve not only cooperated, I’ve volunteered my time and resources. I’m not an enemy of the court, and I won’t allow that characterization to stand.”

  “Easy now, Breeze,” he said. “I was only theorizing. I’m sure they appreciate your contributions. It’s just that they’ll be frustrated as hell if the hermit fails to produce.”

  “Let’s just say that I’m aware of his importance,” I said. “I’ll do my best. That’s all I can do.”

  “A lot of people are depending on you,” he said. “And a mysterious hermit.”

  I didn’t like what I felt when I left the lawyer’s office. Maybe I overreacted, but the idea of somehow holding me legally accountable pissed me off. They would have had no case at all without me. They wouldn’t even know about the son. I was the one who’d discovered the hermit and tracked him down. Brody, Red, and I were the only successful investigators to work the case. I was close to telling them to shove it up their ass, but Brody calmed me down.

  “He was only kicking ideas around,” she said. “He wasn’t speaking for the DA’s office or the cops.”

  “It was ill-thought out,” I said. “But he doesn’t know me. He should have guessed how I would rea
ct.”

  “He couldn’t know,” she said. “He’s okay. Don’t hold it against him. He’s a lawyer, all caught up in the higher echelon of polite society. He’s got no idea what you’re all about.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “Thanks. Always the reasonable one.”

  “It’s a two-way street,” she said. “I have benefited greatly from your appreciation of freedom and your non-conforming lifestyle.”

  “If what that lawyer suggested comes to pass,” I said. “We might be living out there with the hermit.”

  “I don’t want that for us,” she said. “But I’ll go anywhere with you.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I think my wilderness friend will appear. I’ll go find him tomorrow.”

  “You want me to go with you?”

  “I would, but it’s best I go alone,” I said. “I don’t want to do anything to spook him. Hell, I hope he’s still there.”

  There was an underlying tension in the house that night. It wasn’t between Brody and me. It involved that slightest suggestion that I’d want to cut and run if pressed by a court. It also involved the possibility that the hermit would ultimately decide not to cooperate. I gave the chance of his refusal only ten percent odds, but it was enough to keep me feeling uneasy. I didn’t do a lot to prepare for another walk in the wilderness. I didn’t need stealth or even a weapon. I knew the way well enough by now. I took a few shots of Tennessee Whisky before going to bed, just to take the edge off.

  In the morning I walked Red while Brody cooked breakfast. For some reason, I wasn’t particularly enthused about the day’s mission. All the mystery surrounding the hermit was gone. He was a man, made of flesh and blood like everyone else. He survived more on thievery than on wilderness skills. He even had his old life to fall back on if necessary. I had to give him credit for resisting that urge. I was certain that his meager existence involved plenty of hardships, but he had his freedom. I would do nothing to interfere with that.

  It was mid-morning before I made the drive into Tennessee. I was deep into the wild before noon. I made good time due to my lack of caution. I did not worry about danger or announcing my presence. I didn’t need to remain silent or sneak through the forest. I didn’t stop to appreciate nature or take in the sights and sounds of the mountain. I took a direct and purposeful course to the hermit’s lair. I crawled through the tunnel, stopping at the curtain blocking the inner sanctum.

  “It’s Breeze,” I said. “Coming in.”

  There was no response. After I stood up in the clearing, I could see that he wasn’t there. I took a quick look around. All his stuff was still there. Inside the tent, I found a note written in big letters on a piece of cardboard.

  At my daughter’s house in Linville Ridge.

  That’s all it said. It was really his house, but he’d referred to it as his daughter’s. Had he given up his hermit life? I didn’t even know where this house was. I’d have to get the address from Rominger. Fuck. I’d walked out here for nothing. Those small tensions would stay with me until I talked with Tyler Scott.

  I took down the note and crawled back out, miffed that I’d wasted my time. On the way back it occurred to me that this could be a good thing. Maybe it meant that he was on board with the court proceedings. It would be a lot more convenient to be in Banner Elk instead of out in the wilderness. He could stay comfortably with his daughter and participate fully in the prosecution of the Chief.

  That thought appeased my anger. I kept an eye out for bears and marched back to the car. I drove back into North Carolina, through Banner Elk, and home to Brody. I handed her the note as soon as I walked in.

  “Long hike for nothing,” I said.

  “Do we even know his daughter’s name?” she asked.

  “No name, no address,” I said. “We’ll have to ask the cops.”

  “Reason four zillion why we need a cellphone,” she said.

  “A conversation for another time,” I said. “You want to ride down to Boone for the four zillionth time?”

  “I’m sure Miss Will can provide us with the information,” she said.

  This was a trap. It was like a trick question. Did I want to see her again? If I didn’t, did that mean I was still tempted by her? If I did, did that mean I was still attracted to her? There was no correct answer. Brody had effectively painted me into a corner, just like that. It was a subtle reminder that I came a little too close to screwing up. Then she let me off the hook.

  “Just as easy to drive to Boone,” she said.

  “Boone it is,” I said.

  The daughter’s name was Mary. After she’d divorced, she reclaimed her maiden name, Mary Scott. All I could think of was Mary Queen of Scots. By all appearances, she’d been reluctant to assume her father’s wealth, but she had no choice. She couldn’t leave his vacant house to rot, or his investments to go unattended. She’d reluctantly assumed her birthright, only moving in after the declaration of death was final. Now, dad was miraculously alive.

  Rominger made a few calls on our behalf. Linville Ridge was a gated community. They didn’t let any riff-raff off the street through the gates. Once we got the assurance that we’d be allowed to pass, we left Boone and headed to the house of Mary Scott.

  Twenty-One

  Mary answered the door, and we exchanged greetings. She led us into her living room. A well-groomed gentleman sat on the sofa, doing a crossword puzzle.

  “You have friends here to see you, dad,” Mary said.

  I had not recognized Tyler Scott, even though I knew he was here. He was wearing nice clothes and had obviously been to a barber. His attire was top of the line stuff. He had new leather loafers on his feet. He didn’t resemble the hermit in the least.

  “Is that you?” I asked. “Quite the transformation.”

  “I wanted to make a nice appearance for the lawyers and judges,” he said. “You told me that this would add weight to what I had to say.”

  “I’m certain it will,” I said. “You’ve heard the recent developments?”

  “Actually, no,” he said. “I’m still shunning some modern conveniences, like TV for example.”

  “We don’t watch it,” I told him. “No cell phone either.”

  “Where do we stand with the case?”

  “The son, whom we assume is the killer, is dead,” I said. “Apparent suicide. His car is positive for the victim’s DNA. The father, who you saw dump the body, is still not talking. His hopes rest on you not testifying, or not being credible.”

  “I’m fully prepared to cooperate,” he said. “What about my deal?”

  “You have immunity,” I said. “No one is going to arrest you.”

  “Someone will contact me with the time and place?”

  “First you need to go to Boone and talk to your lawyer,” I said. “Some paperwork to sign. Then the DA will want to question you. They need to know what you know before court.”

  “Perfectly understandable,” he said. “A chance for me to do my civic duty.”

  “That’s one way to look at it,” I said. “If it’s okay, I’ll give the phone number here to your lawyer.”

  “Let me give you my cell,” Mary said. “That’s the best way to contact us.”

  She wrote her number on a post-it note and handed it to me. I gave it to Brody. Three of us were still standing while the ex-hermit sat. It felt awkward.

  “I should thank you,” Mary said. “Because of you dad has come to visit. I’ve been waiting for him to come home for a long time.”

  “Will you be sticking around, Tyler?” I asked.

  “That remains to be seen,” he said. “I’m here for a purpose. Once that’s done I’ll have to make some choices.”

  “We’ll get out of your hair,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll do fine with the lawyers.”

  I was happy to learn that Tyler Scott intended to testify. I was amazed at his transformation, but he’d been cool to our presence. I don’t know what I’d expected, but it was like he w
asn’t the same man. Coming in out of the wilderness had instantly changed him back into the man he used to be, the one he’d left behind. I couldn’t square it in my head.

  We drove to Boone to give his lawyer Mary’s cell number. He’d already been given her house phone number by Rominger. The entirety of the local judiciary and law enforcement waited on the word of a hermit. What they’d get is the word of a businessman. It didn’t bode well for the Chief.

  We left the lawyer’s office and went to see Rominger. All I wanted was an assurance that we’d be kept in the loop. He made it clear that we would know everything that happened, as soon as he knew.

  “Depending on how the early hearings go, they might need you to testify,” he said.

  “To what?” I asked. “The case seems pretty clear.”

  “It could get complicated,” he said. “How did we find out the son was in that house? How did we locate the hermit? That kind of stuff.”

  “I’ll do it if I have to,” I said. “But a courtroom is the last place I want to be.”

  “The DA will have all the leverage once he talks to our star witness,” he said. “Probably won’t ever get to court. The Chief is screwed.”

  “I feel a little bad for him,” I said. “His son is dead, and his wife is locked away. He won’t ever be a cop again. His life is over.”

  “His choices,” Rominger said. “Nothing we can do about it.”