Ashes to Ashes (35 page)

“There is no such thing as a perfect father,”
Bam spat.

“Exactly,” Scott said. “That is why I don’t
believe that God opened my eyes to anything. Something else
happened.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “That is why that
pill was not enough. Taking that pill would not resolve this mess.
I thought it
would
be enough, enough to prove to my father
and Oscar why I had to kill Owen. But it wouldn’t be enough for
me…for my state of mind.”

“That man won’t tell you anything,” she
responded, twisting away from the window to point toward the
archway that led into the living room. A wooden chair had been
taken from the dining room table and placed at the center of the
room. The thick curtains had been drawn in that room as well,
blocking the view of any passersby. Sitting on the chair, bound and
tied was the yellow man.

The smirk was still on his face.

Scott was going to wipe that expression from
his face, even if he had to use sandpaper to do it.

“Are you in this with me?” he asked Bam. “Are
we going to see this through together?”

“I’m scared,” Bam said and Scott could see it
plain as day. She was more than scared. She was terrified. She was
terrified of the yellow man. He never thought about how she would
react to his presence and regretted the rash and selfish decision.
But it had to be done. For her and his own good.

“He can’t hurt you, baby,” he said. “I won’t
let him.”

“If he wants me hurt,” she began, “I will be
hurt.”

“We will see about that,” Scott told her,
taking her by the arm and pulling her focus away from the yellow
man. He met her eyes with his. Cradling the bottom of her arm with
his palm, he escorted her into the living room, so that she can
confront the yellow man.

Chapter 41

“Franklin Barrett?” Oscar asked. “How did
Franklin Barrett enter this chat we are having? Did I miss
something?”

Ashe took a breath and relayed his theories
to his old friends. As they went front only thoughts to spoken
words, he realized exactly how thin and possibly paranoid they
might actually be. “Does that sound crazy?” he asked. “I know it
probably does, but my gut is telling me otherwise. Alarms are going
off and I can’t ignore them.”

Oscar thought it over.

“No black and gold container found that I am
aware of,” he said. “But we were unable to strip the whole mansion.
Damn higher authorities forced me to use kid’s gloves with
that
family. And then the bastard confessed which stalled
the search for any further evidence.” He shut his eyes. “Could it
have been there? Did we stop before we found it? I don’t know.
Anything is possible.”

“It fits the organized crime aspect of the
scenario,” Ginger stated with a scratch of his red beard. “The
Barrett family is a known member of the crime syndicate of
northeast Ohio, even if it is not proven. That doesn’t make them
special, just a big fish in a little, dried up ocean.”

“There is more than the organized crime
aspect going on here,” Ashe told the two men. “Think about it for a
minute. Look at each crime through the eyes of the symptoms of the
mystery pill. Paranoia and aggression…mainly. Sometimes paranoia
can be the main causation of aggression, the one leading to the
other. That paranoia can be all encompassing, taking over your mind
as you try to live a daily life. It grows and grows until there is
nothing left.” He paused for second to collect his thoughts. “When
someone is paranoid, they feel threatened, and in extreme causes,
like those involved in severe schizophrenia, it is by unknown or
unidentified powers or groups, like a secret government that is
listening to their thoughts. But sometimes the paranoid can be
localized, focusing on a single thing or person or group. It can
also be based in reality…to a point. It can also be justified on
occasion. Just because you are paranoid, doesn’t mean that someone
isn’t after you. You know the saying.”
“Very well,” Oscar replied.

“Everyone at this table has been a member of
the Justified Paranoid Club, at a point or another,” Ginger said.
He then nodded his head sideways toward Oscar, “And some of us are
lifelong members.”

Oscar glanced at Ginger. “It keeps me young
and agile.” He joked.

They all chuckled.

“We both know that paranoia played a part in
the Barrett slayings,” Ashe continued. “He confessed to that
much.”

“True,” Oscar agreed. “He told us that he
believed that his wife and son were plotting his own death. They
wanted his money. Guess they were going to make it look like an
accident, I would assume. But I’m not sure if he went into that
much detail about the plot. But they would have had to do it that
way, though, in order to get his life insurance and the estates, as
long as his will was set up in their favor. Don’t see why it
wouldn’t be.”

“Right,” Ashe said. “However, you said that
no evidence of a murder plot was ever uncovered.”

“No evidence
was
uncovered,” Oscar
replied. “But, again, my hands were tied with red tape. I searched
a little, though, even after the guilty plea was announced. Never
found a crumb of a trail.”

“Would it have changed a thing?” Ginger asked
Oscar.

“I don’t know,” Oscar said. “Maybe. Probably
not.”

“Whether true or not,” Ashe continued. “I
have a feeling that the fear existed in the back of Barrett’s mind,
even slightly. Barrett is a snake in a family of sharp clawed
raptors. He probably feared his own family as much as the police
that consistently investigated his family. He got that pill…and
then the paranoia sprouted into full bloom and took on a real
picture. He was sure that his wife and son were plotting against
him. And he reacted in the only way he thought that he could.”

“Okay,” Oscar said. “But we have no black and
gold container to link Barrett to the other three events or to your
son.”

“It was there,” Ashe was sure. “Who has the
house now?”

“It was passed to another member of the
family,” Oscar answered. “But I’m not sure. Whoever it was refuses
to live there. It has been closed up like a tomb. Or a sick
memorial to the dead.”

“It might still be there,” Ashe said. And
then changed subjects. “Charlie Parker. The hired gun for the
Picante family boss. He worked for a dangerous and ruthless family
and was present during the most secretive meetings. He knew things
that he should have never be invited to know. People like that have
an expiration date. And they have to know it. In the back of their
minds, they have to wonder if the next meeting would be where they
will be killed and buried in cement, disappeared from the earth. We
both know Charlie Parker thought about that final moment, maybe
even obsessively. Add a paranoid inducing mystery pill…and
blam
. A dead family.”

“What about Mathew Windham?” Ginger asked,
itching the bottom of his red haired chin.

“I would have to stretch this one a little
bit,” Ashe continued, “but not to any lengths that would make it an
improbable possibility.” He paused for a couple breaths. “I hadn’t
known

Tommy-on-the-take personally. Had either of
you?”

Oscar nodded. He explained. “Wasn’t a nice
guy…or cop. Angry. Arrogant. Crooked. But he had walked the line
close enough to keep from getting caught. He also worked with help
from his criminal friends.”

“Had he been violent? Confrontational?”

“On a dime,” Oscar replied. “Not too long
before his death, he had wanted to transfer into my crew, but I
told the captain that I had enough dead bodies on my hands to add
more to the mix.”

“Did you ever get to see him interact with
Mathew?” Ashe asked.

Oscar considered the question. “No…not at
all. Not too many of the other officers had even been aware that he
had had a son, until it all went down and Tommy ended up bludgeoned
by him.”

“Could Mathew have been afraid of his old
man?”

“
I
was afraid of his old man,” Ginger
said. “He didn’t like me none. No way, sir.”

“Maybe the kid was abused, physically or
mentally,” Ashe stated. “That could cause a teen to be afraid for
their life…on a daily basis. Add an overdose of paranoia and you
got a battered child killing his abuser.”

Oscar grunted. “Thin.”

“I said it would be,” Ashe said.

“But I can look into it,” Oscar
concluded.

“Did you get any information from the wife?”
Ashe asked. “Did she mention anything about abuse…or any other
motive?”

“She wouldn’t talk to us,” Oscar replied.
“She doesn’t trust the police. And I don’t blame her.”

“Me either, to be honest,” Ashe replied.
“What about the church shooting? I don’t know the relationship
between the Cool brothers and Victor Ortiz,” He continued. “Can’t
even explain how little I know.”

“The Cool brothers are not nice guys,” Oscar
informed Ashe. “Even if they do go to the same church each and
every Sunday. And Victor Ortiz was the same kind of guy…a God
fearing criminal type. They would want to kill each other simply
because of their natures. But you don’t believe that?”

“Not at all,” Ashe replied. “And you don’t
either.”

“Can’t say that I do,” Oscar said.
“Especially with that little fucking container involved.”

“Could be as simple as competition between
bad guys?” Ashe wondered.

Oscar grew quiet. “We considered that
possibility. It was most likely the motive for the shootings. Ortiz
was putting his claim in the gun running domain, which was ruled by
the Cool brothers. Ortiz tried to kill his competition. Or he
wanted to kill them before they could erase their competition. But
when we pulled that containers and the pill from him…we weren’t so
sure. What are the odds? It muddied a clear pond.”

“Maybe not,” Ashe responded. “It might be
just that simple. The Cool brothers would not let some small name
guy like Victor Ortiz take money from their pockets. They would
strike against Victor…eventually. He had no choice but to strike
first. But he also had the mystery pill on him, so we can also add
amphetamine induced paranoia to his state of mind. It drove him to
overreact out of pure and primal desperation. He knew the brothers
would be at the church come Sunday morning, sitting proud in the
back pews where they always sat, and he would take whatever chance
he could to get at them. In his mind, time might have been ticking
down to nothing. He had to act, quickly.”

“Damn sloppy,” Oscar groaned.

“Paranoia knows no logic,” Ashe replied.

“I missed you, my friend” Ginger proclaimed,
causing Ashe to smile.

“What about Scott?” Oscar asked, his face
still stern, even after Ginger declaration of love to Ashe. “This
is the container from his bedroom. How does he play into all of
this is? I don’t see any organized crime connection when dealing
with him. Is there?”

“No,” Ashe said. This conversation was giving
him the details that he needed to get to the bottom of Scott’s
mess. He felt the connections being made and the links being
discovered. He was close to the truth. He could feel it in the
shadows, just beyond his sight. And the more he spoke the more he
seemed to understand. “But there is a paranoia aspect,” he
continued. “I talked to Scott’s good friend Regime along with
Scott’s basketball coach. I know that you did, too. Did they
mention the quarrels between Scott and Owen prior to the
shooting?”

Oscar nodded.

Ashe continued, “As you know, Owen had come
home one night wasted on something to the point he didn’t know what
he was doing. He hadn’t even recognize his own roommate. He had
believed Scott to be an intruder. Scott had been able to calm him
down
that
time, but it must have happened a different time,
causing them to fight. Owen must have scared Scott. I know I would
have been worried about what Owen was capable of when he was in one
of those episodes, especially given the knowledge that Owen had
been involved in prior violent episodes while on drugs. Something
that Scott was aware of. One of those times Owen might mistake
Scott for an intruder again and attack him, try to kill him.”

“The pill would turn that fear” Oscar began,
“into something more. He would see it, as the rest might have seen
it…to be self-defense.”

“Kill or be killed,” Ginger added. “One the
most basic impulses when being cornered.”

“But why is he still on the run?” Oscar
asked.

“Scott called me,” Ashe said, putting that
piece of information on the table. “And there is something wrong
with him, outside of just paranoia. He is on a mission, Oscar. And
he is driven by something that I am not sure of yet.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“That his eyes have been opened,” Ashe said.
“It was the same thing that Franklin Barrett said to me about his
own crime.”

“What do you think it means?” Oscar
asked.

“I think he believed he saw something,” Ashe
answered. “That is why I put hallucinations as another possible
symptom of that pill. But I can’t be sure…yet.”

“What did he see?”

“I don’t know.”

“You two are making really good points,”
Ginger interrupted. “But one question has been far from answered,
my friends.” Ashe and Oscar both looked at the red haired lab rat.
“Where did the pill come from? And why have only these people been
given it?”

Ashe closed his eyes and tilted his head. “I
have no idea.”

Oscar grunted.

Silence swept over them, but was immediately
broken by the sudden ringing of a cell phone. The ring tone was in
Spanish and Oscar was the only one to reach for his phone.
“Detective Harrison.” No more words followed. Oscar only listened,
his face frozen in a tight expression.

It was not good news.