4 The Marathon Murders (20 page)

Warren Jarvis called while we were still in
Rottman’s
house. I told him we had rescued
Kelli, that
she was okay. I gave him directions. He said
he’d be here as fast as his rental car would take the curves and hills.

Fought made the arrest, read
Rottman
his rights and turned him over to another TBI
agent. They hauled him off to Sheriff Driscoll’s jail in Hartsville. One of the
TBI techs brought in a first aid kit and patched up my injured arm.

“You’d better stop by the ER and
let them take a look at that,” he said. “I notice you flinched pretty
good
when I tried to clean it.”

I grimaced.
“Yeah.
Thanks a lot for checking my reflexes.”

Fought joined us in the living room
and queried Kelli and me on what had happened. I gave a capsule version of what
we had learned, starting with the Dallas Lights, the trail leading to Hedrick
Industries and Jill’s visit to
Samran
. I described
our attempt to check with Mickey Evans about Kirk
Rottman
,
and the cell phone calls that convinced us we were on the right track.

Fought looked
across with a troubled stare.
“Why didn’t you call me?”

“You made it pretty plain last
night that you would be tied up all day today. Incidentally, congratulations. I
understand you made the biggest marijuana bust in Tennessee history.”

He ran fingers through hair as
black as his eyes. “It was pretty spectacular.” He turned to Kelli. “What was
your role in this affair?”

She started out by telling him she
was Arthur Liggett’s granddaughter, the one who had hired us to find the
Marathon Papers. She knew the problems we were having and decided to come up
here and help with the case.

“Obviously you’re not a reporter
for the
Christian Science Monitor
. Why did you make that up?”

“I thought I could get more
information as a newspaper reporter. It worked.”

“It also got you in a lot of
trouble. How did you wind up
Rottman’s
captive?”

“I interviewed Mickey Evans to get
information on Casey’s supervisor at
Samran
. He
sounded like a prime suspect. After I got his name, I started making inquiries
around town about Kirk
Rottman
. The last time I
talked to Mickey yesterday, she gave me the name of a roadhouse where she’d
heard he hung out. I went there and found him late last night. I told him I’d
heard he could steer me toward a good source of pot. He denied smoking pot or
knowing anything about it, although he sat there with a joint between his
fingers. I said Mickey Evans told me he’d know where I could find some.”

I bit my lower lip. She didn’t know
about Mickey’s murder.

“What happened then?”

“I thought there was a good
prospect that he took the Marathon Papers after killing Bradley and Olson. So
while he was at the tavern, I found his house and came inside.”

“You broke in,” Fought said.

She frowned. “That’s being a bit
harsh. The door was unlocked. It was practically an invitation to come in.”

I doubted that. She was probably a
good lock picker.

“What did you find? Did he surprise
you?”

She looked down at her hands,
shaking her head. “I took way too long. I should have been more alert. He must
have suspected something, although I had parked my car down the street. I
didn’t hear him come in. I was on hands and knees when I looked around and saw
him pointing a gun at me.”

“What did he say?”

“He asked what I was doing there,
repeating that he didn’t have any marijuana. I decided I might shake something
loose with the truth. I told him I was looking for the Marathon Motors papers
he took from Pierce Bradley. He laughed, said Bradley didn’t have them, but he
was still looking, too.”

She said he demanded to know who
she was and why she wanted the papers. She decided to play the old quid pro quo
game—you tell me and I’ll tell you. He said she wasn’t going anywhere, so why
not? Of course, he changed the order of the game. And sitting at the kitchen
table with the pistol pointed at her quickly became nerve-wracking, considering
how long he might have been drinking and smoking pot. The look in his eyes was
worrisome.

She went first, telling him who she
was and that the papers belonged to her great-great-grandfather.
Rottman
replied that his grandfather wanted them because
they might reflect badly on Sam Hedrick, as well as the company.

Kelli said the young man had
obviously spent a good while at the bar, and he seemed to relish his role in
the plot. He was eager to talk about it. He said the way he heard the story,
his great-grandfather, Randall, had whacked Sydney Liggett in the head and
drove his car down to Dickson County. Sam Hedrick had followed and brought
Randall back to Nashville. Sam had discovered some files were missing, files
that could prove he stole thousands of dollars from the company. So he publicly
accused Liggett of taking both the papers and the money.

The story had been handed down from
father to son, and in his case, daughter, Camilla. Kirk wouldn’t have known if he
hadn’t followed an old pattern of eavesdropping on his mother and grandfather.
When Stone Hedrick learned the papers had turned up, and a guy from Trousdale
County planned to give them to Arthur Liggett, he nearly panicked. He called in
Kirk and asked him to find someone who would take on the task of recovering the
papers for $25,000. Kirk approached Olson, who jumped at the deal. Kirk waited
outside while Olson went into Bradley’s house carrying a gun. When he didn’t
find the papers, and Bradley refused to say where they were, Olson became
angry, took a cane and struck him a stunning blow the head

“That was probably payback for
Bradley’s breaking his arm,” I said.

“After that,” Kelli said, “Kirk
decided they had better get rid of the man to cover their tracks. But after
they drove Bradley’s Jeep into the lake, Olson began to have second thoughts.
He talked about turning himself in. Kirk was afraid Olson would try to plea
bargain a light sentence in return for testifying against him.

When Kelli stopped, Wayne Fought
stared in disbelief. “You want us to believe he voluntarily sat there and told
you all of that?”

“I was astounded, too. But once he
started talking, it seemed like he couldn’t stop. I had the feeling he was
confident I would never live to repeat any of it.

“He took me into the front bedroom
and taped my wrists behind a large straight chair. Then he taped my ankles to
the legs. I thought if I could get him out of there long enough, I might be
able to work myself free. So I asked if he had any food, that I was hungry. He
went into the kitchen and was gone only a short time, coming back with a soft
drink in a glass. I told him I couldn’t drink it with my hands tied like that,
but he just held the glass to my lips. That was a big mistake.”

“What happened,” I asked.

“The drink must have contained
Rohypnol, or some similar drug. It knocked me out in a hurry. When I awoke, it
was daylight. I was groggy and tied to the bed. He came in to check on me after
a while, sober, as best I could tell, and angry. He demanded to know what
Mickey Evans had told me. He asked a lot of questions about who was looking for
the papers, and what the cops knew. When I refused to answer, he slapped me
around the face. Then he said he was going out, that he’d take care of me later.”

“When did he return?” the agent
asked.

“After the storm
had nearly passed.
It wasn’t long before you arrived, Greg.”

“Are you sure he didn’t rape you
while you were drugged?”

Kelli shook her head. “I don’t
think so, but I’d better stop by a hospital and get checked out.”

Fought instructed her to visit the
Trousdale Medical Center for testing. “One of the deputies can take you if you
need transportation.”

I assured him we would see that she
got there.

“Okay,” Fought said. “I’ll need
statements from both of you, but not until tomorrow. We still have a
helluva
lot of wrapping up to do tonight.”

When we were finished and walked
outside, Jarvis ran up to Kelli and threw his arms around her. For the first
time, that hard exterior she had displayed throughout the ordeal appeared on
the verge of breaking down. Before we got to the car, Agent Fought walked over.

“Do you have any idea what happened
to the infamous papers?”

“As a matter of fact I do,” I said,
gesturing toward the car. “They’re under Jill’s seat. Patricia Cook found them
where Pierce had left them at her house. I picked them up before we came out
here.”

“I’ll need those for evidence.”

“I know, but I’d like to bring them
in tomorrow. I need to go over them for Kelli’s grandfather’s peace of mind.
He’s eighty-four and in poor health. This should really boost his morale.”

Fought gave me a hard stare. I knew
he didn’t want to go off without the papers, but since I had caught his
murderer, maybe he’d cut me a little slack.

“All right, McKenzie,” he said after
considerable hesitation. “Just be sure you have them with you in the morning.
I’ll meet you and Miss Kane over at Headquarters at nine.”

We made a prolonged detour by the hospital, where I got my arm
checked out, and they determined that Kelli had not been subjected to any
sexual molestation.

We invited Kelli and Warren to drop
by our house and check out the Marathon papers after stopping by their motel. When
we arrived home, the most recent message on the answering machine was in Wes
Knight’s annoyed, yet excited voice.

“What the hell’s going on, Greg?
Call me!”

For the sake of future relations, I
dialed him back.

“What can I do for you, Wes?” I
asked, playing Mr. Cool.

“Damn, man. We got this story out
of the TBI in Trousdale County. Triple murders committed by the son of a
prominent Belle Meade family. And what do I find in the middle of it?
Your name and that of Miss Kelli Kane.
What the hell
happened to that speed dial with J for Juicy?”

“Simmer down, Wes,” I said. “I just
got back from Trousdale County and a little trip to the Emergency Room. I
haven’t exactly had much time for speed dialing.”

“Okay, sorry to hear that. Was the
Mrs. involved in this one like the last time out?”

He was referring to the Fed
chairman affair from a few months ago.
“On the case, yes.
But, fortunately, not the shooting.
I’ll tell you what
I can, but I don’t want to get in trouble with the TBI. They’re still
investigating.”

“What about Kane? Where can I find
her?”

“At the moment, you can’t. Why
don’t you tell me what you’ve got, and I’ll fill in what I can.”

Turned out he had all the basics of
the story, who had been killed, who was arrested, where it happened. Agent
Fought had identified me as being involved in an exchange of gunfire with Kirk
Rottman
while rescuing Kelli Kane. The TBI spokesperson
left the facts a little loose, not wanting to give me all the credit for
bringing in the killer. That was fine with me. Wayne Fought deserved a major
share for feeding me information that led to tracking down
Rottman
.

One point totally left out of the
TBI story was the Marathon Motors records. I knew Wayne Fought had purposely
omitted that, both because he hadn’t seen the papers yet and because he
intended to use them in confronting Stone Hedrick.

I gave Wes a few choice details,
including the discovery of Mickey Evans’ body in the midst of a raging
thunderstorm and what the scene at
Rottman’s
house
was like. I told him Kelli had become our client and got caught up in this
situation while helping us
investigate
another matter.
Wes wanted more, of course, but seemed satisfied when I reminded him about
client confidentiality.

Warren and Kelli arrived shortly
afterward. She had stopped by the motel for a shower and change of clothes. She
appeared noticeably rejuvenated, with her original hair color back. I figured
Warren had ratcheted up the charm.

Jill fixed us a snack, since a big
meal hardly sounded of interest to anybody, even Kelli despite her enforced
fast. We sat at the dining room table and spread out the papers. Warren picked
up the first page and studied it.

“This looks like it concerns an
account for something called Automotive Products Company,” he said.

I read through the sheet and
agreed, pointing at figures beside names like Winner, Runner, and Champion.
“These are apparently proceeds from car sales. I seem to recall those were
model names that went with the Olympic marathon theme.”

“I’ll bet that was an account Sam
Hedrick set up that only he had access to,” Kelli said.

As we went through the pages, we
noted the dates covered a period of nearly two years. And the total at the end
amounted to more than $200,000. In 1914 greenbacks, that represented a tidy
sum.

“Hey,” Jill said. She leaned over
one of the pages and pointed at a small group of initials at the bottom of the
page. “Did you see this? It looks like ‘SAH.’”

I thought about that for a moment,
remembering something from Friday night’s party. “Camilla told me her great-great-grandfather
was named after Revolutionary War patriot Samuel Adams. I’ll bet he was Samuel
Adams Hedrick—‘SAH.’”

Kelli slammed her hands on the
table. “That cinches it for me. Sydney Liggett uncovered the secret account
Hedrick used to funnel money out of the company into his own coffers. He was
preparing to turn it over to the DA when Hedrick found out about it.”

“Sydney got wind they were coming
after him and hid the papers in his office wall,” I said. “Remember those
letters your grandfather had? One said something about Sydney indulging in his
woodworking hobby.”

Kelli looked around and nodded.
“Right.
It was in one of those I read to you and Jill over
on Blair Boulevard.”

“He managed to hide the files,”
Jill said, “but they got him before he could do anything about it.”

We reached a consensus on the
theory that Sam Hedrick used his windfall to bankroll Hedrick Industries during
World War I. The possibility of the incriminating papers being brought to
light, badly tainting the reputation of the company, likely led to Stone
Hedrick’s decision to seek Kirk
Rottman’s
help. And
then things got deadly.

While Jill and Warren waited in the TBI Headquarters lobby
Tuesday morning, Kelli and I met with Wayne Fought in the conference room. This
time he brought in an agent assigned to the Nashville office to help with the
questioning.

As soon as we took our places at
the table, Fought looked across at me, eyes narrowed in an expression of
concern. “How’s the arm?”

I raised my arm, turning it one way,
then the other.
“Still sore, but no major damage.
It’ll provide a good excuse for avoiding chores around the house.”

“Glad to hear some good came from
the ordeal,” he said, in a little more jovial mood today. “Okay, I’ll switch on
the recorder and we’ll get started.”

Kelli rehashed the account she had
given yesterday in Hartsville. When it came my turn, I gave them all the
information I had dug up about Olson and
Rottman
and
our collective take on the Marathon papers. I handed the envelope full of accounting
sheets to Fought.

After the two agents pored over the
information for a few minutes, Fought looked up. “So you think this prompted
Stone Hedrick to go after Bradley?”

“That’s certainly the way it
appears. In essence, that’s what Kirk
Rottman
told Kelli.
I’m sure it would help if you could pull a confession out of
Rottman
.”

Fought shut off the recorder. “I’m
not sure if we can do that. His family has already sent a big-shot lawyer up to
Hartsville. We’ll take these papers along on our visit to Mr. Stone Hedrick.
I’ve already called for an appointment at two this afternoon.”

“You must have been anticipating
this,” I said.

“I have something else to ask him
about.” Fought pulled
an evidence
bag out of his
briefcase. It contained a semiautomatic pistol. “Here’s the Beretta the
diver
pulled out of the river yesterday. It’s registered in
the name of Stone Hedrick.”

Kelli leaned her elbows on the
table, her hands folded. “After all this, I’m convinced Mr. Hedrick is the one
who hired that PI character, Harold Sharkey, to tail me and go through my
Grandpa’s house.”

“You’re probably right.” Fought
gave me an apologetic look. “I didn’t think it had anything to do with this
case when Greg first told me about it.”

“You might ask Kirk about that,
too,” I said. “Chances are he took part in creating all that mess. Also look
into Camilla
Rottman
, Kirk’s mother, as an accessory.
I’d bet she was in on all of it. From what she told me about her husband, he
was probably kept in the dark. But she is one certified scheming woman.”

Jill and I joined Kelli and Warren for lunch shortly after
we wound up the session at TBI Headquarters. After we had given the waitress
our orders, Warren turned on a big smile and reached over to take Kelli’s hand.

“We have an announcement,” he said.
“Kelli has decided her usefulness as a clandestine agent is over. She plans to
resign her position with the Department of Defense and take up a new role as an
Air Force wife.”

Jill leaned over and hugged Kelli
while I congratulated Warren.

“I wish both of you all the
happiness in the world,” Jill said.

“Thanks to both of you for
everything,” Kelli said. “My Grandpa was ecstatic this morning. And we have one
piece of unfinished business. Please figure up what we owe you as soon as
possible. I don’t want to leave any debts unpaid.”

“We’ll get it to you,” Jill said.
“But don’t worry about being in too big a hurry to pay it. You’ll have lots of
other things on your mind in the next few days.”

We said our good-byes to Warren
after lunch. He had to catch a flight back to Washington. Kelli said she
planned to stay around until Agent Fought wrapped up the Marathon murders case
and every possibility for getting Sydney Liggett’s name cleared had been
pursued. Meanwhile, she’d move back into Arthur Liggett’s house on Blair
Boulevard and spend more time with him at the nursing home.

It was after two when we got back
to the office in Hermitage. We sank back into our chairs, prepared to wrap up
all of our current business and clear the way for a trip to
Perdido
Key, Florida and total relaxation.

All that was put
on hold when the door was suddenly flung open.
A fiery-eyed Camilla
Rottman
stormed in. You could almost see her fangs.

“I told you
you
would regret the way you treated me,” she said. The words reflected anger, not
pain. “Now you’ve tried to hurt my son.”

Camilla had marched up to my desk.

Jill got up and came around the
side of hers.
“A slight correction, Mrs.
Rottman
.
Your son not only tried but succeeded in hurting Greg. That bandage on Greg’s
arm is from a gunshot Kirk fired.”

“Too bad his aim wasn’t better.”

For a moment, I thought Jill would
slap her. Instead, she gritted her teeth and spoke in as icy a tone as I’d ever
heard from her. “You are one sorry excuse for a mother . . . and a woman. You
have caused way too much trouble already, Mrs.
Rottman
.
I would appreciate it if you would get the hell out of here . . . now!”

I nearly went into shock. My wife
never, I mean never, used profanity.

Camilla turned on her and sneered.
“You pathetic people.
I have powerful friends in the state
government. I’ll have your license suspended so quickly you won’t know what’s
happened.”

I smiled and spoke in a calm voice.
“Mrs.
Rottman
, I hope you have some powerful friends
in the Criminal Courts. Your son is charged with three murders. Murders he
admitted in the presence of two witnesses. Murders he committed in an attempt
to get a collection of Marathon Motor Works records that show your
great-grandfather stole hundreds of thousands of dollars from the company.”

Her mouth dropped open for a
moment, then closed tightly and her eyes flashed again. “Liar!” she shouted.

“If you haven’t seen them,” Jill
said, “I’m sure TBI Agent Wayne Fought will be happy to show them to you.”

Camilla stood there for a moment,
her expression running the gamut from shock to fear to total frustration. She
spun on her heels and rushed out, leaving the door wide open. I walked over to
close it, watching as her small red Jaguar spun its wheels and raced off.

I turned back to find Jill walking
toward me, smiling. “I hope we didn’t blow anything for Agent Fought by
mentioning the Marathon papers,” she said.

I checked my watch. “He’s probably
meeting with Hedrick right now. Incidentally, you did a magnificent job, babe.
I think we can cross Mrs.
Rottman
and her highfalutin
friends off our potential client list.”

“Amen.” She threw her arms around
me, resting her head on my shoulder. She looked up with a failed attempt at a
doleful expression. “I’m sorry you won’t be sitting in the HI club suite at
Titans Stadium this fall.”

“Yeah.
I
regret that almost as much as I regret not giving Kirk
Rottman
the chance to shoot me in the other arm.”

She started to giggle, then broke
out laughing so hard I couldn’t help but join in. After all the misfortune that
had plagued Marathon Motor Works’ demise and its aftermath, I relished the
opportunity to wind up our involvement with a good guffaw. Wayne Fought might
still have a few problems to resolve, but our case was all neatly wrapped up
and ready for the archives.