Murder in the Choir (The Jazz Phillips Mystery Series) (32 page)

“I still think we need to gather evidence,” I told him. This was not like Dee to give up so easily.

“Of course, we do,” he replied. “We need to have it in case they ever give him back to us. I’m just saying I won’t be sorry if they don’t. I’m looking forward to being out of here, and I’d rather not have to testify.”

We talked a while longer. When we were done, I looked for Kruger, but he wasn’t in his room. Changing into my sweats and walking shoes, I set out to get some exercise and spotted his car at the drive-in. He was sitting by himself with a milkshake and a burger, so I joined him. Seeing the burger reminded me I hadn’t eaten supper, so I ordered the works: a chicken-fried chicken plate with fries and cole slaw. To top it off, I ordered a chocolate shake.

“You’re going to have to walk extra miles to work that off,” Kruger smiled. He was more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him.

“That must have been some date,” I replied, and he smiled even more. “Are you ready for an update?”

“Only if you must,” he answered, but I could see I had his attention.

I looked around the dining room. There was no one else there. Keeping my voice low, I told him about the funeral and about seeing someone I thought was Posey in the foyer. “I can’t be sure, but I think it was him.”

He nodded. “That makes sense. The DNA report fits, too. The question is how we build a case.”

“I think the first thing is to find the bullets that killed Jones. I asked Ben Weaver to see if he could get DNA from the can. That would place Posey in the blacksmith shop.”

Kruger nodded. “With that particular type of rifle, finding the bullets would really help. Of course, finding the rifle in his possession would be better.” He frowned. “That kind of rifle is pretty unusual for a casual sportsman to own.”

I thought about what he said for a moment, then told Kruger I had access to information that shed light on this, but that I couldn’t reveal my source. He frowned, but nodded, and I told him the theory about Posey being a professional international assassin.

“That’s interesting,” he replied. “When I ran the details through our data base on Monday, I came up with a solid hit. There have been several killings by an unknown assassin that carry the same method. The signature is three shots from a .223 at intermediate range, and the bullets that were found all came from the same kind of weapon as the bullet Weaver found.” He gave me an odd look. “Your source must either have access to our data base or access to information we don’t have. My guess would be you have been talking to someone with the CIA.”

I said nothing. I hated lying with my silence, but there was nothing I could do about it. Kruger looked at me and continued. “Since this unknown killer is also responsible for the deaths of several witnesses, I would guess that Adams must have seen something. Assuming we’re talking about the same man. What I find hard to believe is that our international assassin comes from a place like Oak Grove, Arkansas.” He waved off my objection. “I know, they have to come from somewhere.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Did it occur to you that Robert may be in danger? Assuming it’s the same killer.”

I told him that it had, and protection was in place. “Nothing against John Tanner, but I don’t think rural deputies would stand a chance against this guy,” Kruger replied. He took out his phone. “I better call in some of our people.”

I stopped him before he could dial. “It’s being covered,” I told him. There was nothing else to do, so I told him a national team was on the way.

“Who are these people?” Kruger demanded. “They sure as hell don’t have jurisdiction!”

I gave him the name of McKee’s agency. “Jesus!” he exclaimed. “You don’t mess around, do you? Those guys are as good as the Mossad. What were they doing in Oak Grove?” He put his phone back in his pocket.

“I don’t know,” I told him truthfully. “They may have picked up on the details of the shooting just like you did. We’ve been running things through the national data base. They hinted there was another operation they were running around here.”

“Do you remember that white supremacist camp that was wiped out by a rival group in Wyoming a couple of years ago?” I nodded. “That was their work. They didn’t do the killing, but they set it up. It was a massacre. Then they took out the group that won.”

“How do you know so much about them?” I asked. “I never heard of them before.” Too late I realized I had slipped and I knew Kruger caught it.

Kruger gave me a sardonic smile. “I see. I won’t ask before when. Well, then, while we’re sharing secrets, I crossed paths with one of their agents a few months ago. I made it a point to find out everything I could. They’re good. Did they recruit you?”

I didn’t even try to hide my surprise. Kruger laughed. “They did me. I don’t know how they did it, but they found I was nosing around and came to me. I think McKee could sell ice to Eskimos. Did you meet Dill?”

I answered carefully. “Don’t be surprised if you run into him tomorrow.” It was my turn to be the inquisitor. “You turned them down?”

Kruger shook his head. “Not really. There was some advanced training coming up at the Bureau I wanted. So I passed for the moment, but I left the door open. The last couple of weeks I’ve been thinking about giving them a call.”

I outlined what I wanted to do the next day, searching for the bullets, and asked Kruger if he wanted to join me. “Does a dog have fleas?” he replied in his best imitation of rural Arkansan. I agreed it did, and we set a time for getting together the next morning. When I took off to finish my walk, Kruger was back with his own thoughts and smiling the way he had when I came in. I laughed to myself. That must’ve been some date.

*
 
*
 
*

November came in with a beautiful morning the following day. I was up early and walking by sunrise, wondering how I had managed to miss Halloween the day before. There were the usual decorations in the stores and on some of the houses in Nashville, but I was out too too late to run into any ghosties, ghoulies, or long legged beasties, and I slept through the things that go bump in the night. I did notice a number of egg shells scattered here and there, but I was thinking about the case and didn’t put it together. So much for the great sleuth. Nellie tells me I do that all the time.

I was feeling pretty good that morning. There’s nothing like zeroing in on a suspect to change the whole tone of an investigation. At this point, it was just a matter of gathering evidence, and we knew where to look. Once we had that, my part of the case was over. Someone else could do the dirty work of bringing our suspect in and I could get back to driving Nellie crazy hanging around the house and getting underfoot.

Kruger and I had an early breakfast. He was still mellow from his visit to Little Rock, and I was looking forward to getting home soon. John Tanner came in and joined us, and when Louise wasn’t hanging around, I told him who we had for a suspect. He was surprised to hear Posey was still alive and agreed to let us have James Mason for a couple of more days.

When we got to Oak Grove, I parked in the church lot and Kruger and I walked over to the blacksmith shop. No one seemed to be around, but when we went to the back of the building, Willie Dill appeared out of nowhere, dressed in full camouflage. He was carrying a shotgun and had an automatic pistol holstered at his waist. He greeted us both.

“It was a quiet night,” he told us. “There was no sign of our suspect.”

“When does your team arrive?” I asked.

“They got here two hours ago,” Dill answered. “They’re out scouting to see what they can find.”

I told him what I had in mind for retrieving the bullets. “Robert is going to be out before long. Why don’t I keep him with me this morning? I’ll stay where there’s plenty of cover.”

“He’s out supervising our team,” Dill said. At my look of alarm, he told me not to worry. “He’s with two of the very best.”

“What about James Mason?” I asked. Dill told me Mason was taking a nap in Luther Adam’s place. He was headed that way soon himself.

Kruger headed for the community center, and I went into the blacksmith shop. I spread out a sheet of white canvas in front of the knot hole and took out a small tripod and attached a laser pointer to the top. I moved back far enough so that only the tip of my imaginary rifle protruded through the knot hole. From where I lay, I could see Kruger standing toward the end of the porch, and I spoke to him through the small communicators we brought along. I asked him to move about two feet to his right, and when he was in place, I told him to shield his eyes. Then I set the tripod so the laser focused directly on the middle of his throat.

When I asked Kruger to move aside, I saw that the laser pointed to almost the dead center high in a large tree several yards behind the community center. I found myself getting excited. We had a chance to find the bullets. I radioed Kruger and gave him the news.

As I was getting up, I almost bumped into a thin man who was squatting right beside me, watching every move I made. “Good morning, Doctor,” he said, enjoying my surprise. “I’m Alex Redbone. Sam McKee sends his regards. I’m here with Willie Dill.”

“I didn’t hear you come in!” I told him as I scrambled to my feet. There didn’t seem to be any threat, so I took my hand off the butt of my automatic where it had dropped automatically.

“No, I didn’t either,” he assured me, nodding solemnly, showing me his empty hands. “It’s an old Indian trick my uncle taught me.” His face might be solemn but his eyes were filled with humor. “Then I taught it to Martha.” He pointed. I turned to see a young woman standing directly behind where I lay. Right behind her I could see Robert. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Let me introduce Martha Johnston.”

Martha Johnston was dark and petite and looked much younger than her years. I would later learn she had three children, one of them a man grown. I would also learn she was one of the best shots in the nation. At the moment, I was struck by the intense vitality that seemed to surround her like a magnetic field. It was this bright vitality that made her beautiful, stunning in that terrible and wonderful way of guardian angels. Only a fool would mess with Martha, and then, only once.

The angel smiled, transforming herself into a self-conscious young girl. “I hope we didn’t give you too much of a shock, Doctor Phillips. Alex is incorrigible.”

“Please,” I told them. “Call me Jazz. Doctor Phillips sounds like a brand of prosthetic equipment.”

“You’re saying you can be truss-ted,” Redbone observed, and Martha rolled her eyes. Robert looked puzzled.

“As I said, Alex is incorrigible,” Martha told me. “I hope you have a high tolerance for puns.”

“A pun is its own reword,” I assured her, shamelessly stealing a line from Kruger, though I expect it was not original with him. “What did you find?”

Redbone was immediately all business. “Someone was here last night,” he said. “We found one clear track back of the church and another not so good one behind the old man’s shack. They were about size ten medium running shoes, and I would guess it was someone about five nine and a hundred and fifty pounds. It looked like he was trying to hide his tracks by brushing them out, but he missed those two.”

“Do you think he spotted Dill or Mason?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. He didn’t come anywhere near where they were hidden. I think he was doing reconnaissance, maybe for an attack tonight.” He frowned. “We followed his tracks back to the road. There’s a clearing he parked in a half mile south of here, and he headed south when he drove out. The tracks looked like passenger car tires. Assuming it our man, we may have gotten lucky.”

Redbone took a plastic bag out of his pocket. The contents looked like wet coffee grounds. “These guys never learn,” he said. “Dipping is bad enough, but he let down when he got in the truck. This was fresh when we got there, still slightly warm. He must have spit it out a half hour before we got there.”

I took the bag of snuff. “Good work. We can pull his DNA up from this and know for sure. I suppose you covered your tracks?”

Redbone nodded. “Unlike him, we were working in the light. I don’t think anyone can tell we were on his track. Assuming he parks there again, he won’t know we were there.” Then he looked thoughtful. “Unless he’s very subtle and was watching us all the time. The spit could be a challenge.”

I thought about this. “That could be good news and bad news, too. He may be breaking down, and if so, we stand a better chance of catching him. On the other hand, that would make him even more dangerous.”

Redbone nodded. “We better talk to Robert’s parents. I think we need to put someone inside tonight.” Robert was shaking his head, but Redbone insisted. “No, Robert. This man is out to kill you because you saw him, just like he did with Luther Adams. I think Willie needs to introduce Martha to your folks.”