Smoke & Mirrors (11 page)

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Authors: John Ramsey Miller

Tags: #Revenge, #Thrillers, #Mississippi, #Suspense, #Suspense Fiction, #United States marshals, #Snipers, #Murder - Investigation, #Espionage, #Fiction

BOOK: Smoke & Mirrors
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34

ALEXA VOLUNTEERED TO GO TO THE COURTHOUSE
to check the records on the parcels surrounding Leigh’s land while Brad and Winter drove out to Six Oaks to interview Jacob Gardner.

Estelle opened the door and looked out, smiling broadly. “Brad Barnett again! I remember back to a time when every time I opened this door you was standing right where you standing now.”

“Any word from Cynthia?” Brad asked Estelle.

“Lordy. That child! All the advantages she has and she shows her butt like she do. She is unresponsible and always has been. I told her a million times that proper young girls don’t chase after boys like she do, but do she listen? No.” Estelle shook her head sadly. “People gone think she a loose woman who don’t have a heart, the way she torture her mama. Miss Leigh ain’t home.”

“We’re here to see Jacob.”

“Come on in. He’s layin’ up in the guest room bed like he the king of the world. He wakes up, he gone commence to ringing that little bell.” Estelle stepped aside. “Like having a invalid in the house.”

“Thanks, Estelle. I know the way,” Brad said, stepping into the entrance, Winter shadowing him up the wide stairway.

Without knocking, Brad opened the door to the guest bedroom. The interior was made cave dark by thick curtains. As Brad flipped on the light, Winter was treated to the sight of Jacob Gardner lying on his back with his mouth open, the bed linen twisted around his feet like a binding. His comb-over stuck straight up, flying from his head like a flag. On the nightstand sat an almost empty bottle of Glen Salen and a glass partly filled with light brown water.

“Rise and shine, Jacob!” Brad hollered.

Like a doll, Jacob’s eyes rolled open, and he stared up at the ceiling for a solid three count. He then sat bolt upright and looked at Brad and then Winter before gathering the sheets to cover himself. He tamped down his brown hair and blinked rapidly.

“What the hell are you doing barging in here?” Jacob asked.

“Investigating a murder,” Brad said.

“In my room?” Jacob said.

“At the moment, yes,” Brad replied, opening the curtains to let in daylight. He sat in a chair beside the bed and indicated that Winter should take the fabric-covered chaise lounge. “We need to ask you some questions.”

“How about you do it after I get showered and dressed?”

“How about we do it now,” Brad countered. “That way you can go back to sleep when we leave.”

“Christ,” Jacob said, lying back down and rubbing his eyes. “My head is killing me.”

“If it does, I guess I’ll have three deaths to investigate.”

“So ask your questions,” Jacob said, looking over at Winter.

“Sherry was killed accidentally,” Brad said.

“Damned poachers,” Jacob said. “Shooting wild. Jesus, it’s terrible. How the hell are you going to catch the bastard?”

“No, the shooter was a professional killer. I have reason to believe that Leigh was his actual target, and Sherry looked enough like her in the hooded coat for him to assume she was Leigh. He obviously didn’t know Leigh was out of town.”

“How the hell can you know that? You caught the bastard?”

“Not yet,” Brad said. “But we’re closing in on him.”

“It sounds like wishful thinking,” Jacob said. “Why do you think anybody would try to kill my wife?”

“Ex-wife,” Brad corrected.

Jacob rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “What would be the motive?”

“Money.”

“In case you don’t know it, only the kids would gain from her death. Maybe they’re behind it. I’d look close at Hamp. He’d kill to have the money to buy a genuine beaver fur top hat.”

“Nonetheless, I can’t rule you out,” Brad said.

Jacob looked at Brad like he was an idiot. “Me? And how would I profit from Leigh’s death? Leigh has it fixed so if she dies, I’m left twisting in the wind. Not that I don’t deserve it. I’ve made some mistakes. My life is an open book, Barnett. Her death would be a lose/lose situation for me. And when Sherry was shot I was in bed in Memphis with a former Miss Tennessee, whose number I will happily furnish.” He grinned.

“The bottomland Leigh bought from you comes to mind as a motive.”

Jacob frowned, but his eyes reflected the fires of concern. “She owns it outright, in case she didn’t tell you
that
when she told you about
it
.”

“Why do you want it?”

“It’s been in my family since eighteen ninety.”

“It’s still in your family.”

“Well, not exactly. I mean, yes, it is. But a man who doesn’t own land is a second-class citizen. And in case it has escaped your astute powers of deduction, if I wanted to piss in a pot, I’d have to borrow one from my ex-wife. And odds are my bladder would explode while I was waiting for her to mull it over.”

“I can’t figure out how a man without means can afford to buy worthless land for hundreds of thousands over value. Leigh would expect hard cash,” Brad pressed.

“I can use the land as collateral,” Jacob said quickly.

“No offense, but based on your track record, you’d probably lose it to the bank or whoever loaned you the money. I understand a corporation wanted it for a duck club,” Brad said.

“She did tell you about it. Well, one has expressed interest, and mentioned a figure,” Jacob said. “And maybe I could sell to said corporation for even more than I offered her. Did you think of that?”

Brad said angrily, “You should tell one story and stick to it so you won’t have to try to keep the lies straight.”

“Gamblers might just want to shoot ducks, or hogs, or frigging bison. They’ll pay for the pleasure same as they pay for sex.” Jacob smiled as though he’d just made a closing argument that had the judge and the jury nodding.

“I see,” Brad said. “You have big plans, as usual.”

“I can’t believe you think I’d kill Leigh,” Jacob said. “You’re wasting my time. Of all the things I might be, I am not a killer. Like I said, I was in Memphis yesterday morning.”

Brad shook his head. “I didn’t say you fired the shot, Jacob.”

“Mr. Gardner,” Winter said, “do you gamble?”

Jacob shook his head.

Winter said, “See, if you owed money to someone, you might not be aware of that person’s plan to kill your ex-wife in order to get his hands on her land. That someone might figure if she dies you inherit enough to cover the loan. If you told someone that, you don’t have clear title, but you would if Leigh wasn’t around…”

“No,” Jacob said. “That’s not possible. I don’t owe anybody money. I don’t gamble anymore.”

“I’ve heard you don’t gamble any less,” Brad said.

“I have a law background and I know how things work,” Jacob said.

“If you are being threatened,” Winter said, “we can help. Whoever did this failed, but they may try again.”

“If they harm Leigh, and I find out you’ve lied to us about anything, I will see that you pay,” Brad said.

“Your affection for my ex radiates from you like sunshine, as always. That’s what this is really about. You’re white knighting to impress her by trying to make me look bad. Don’t threaten me, Barnett. You’re a sheriff, not a judge and jury.”

“Fine,” Brad said. “And I’m glad you aren’t worried about your daughter being out of pocket.”

“Out of pocket? Please. Cyn’s been sexually active since she discovered she was cute. If she isn’t at my mother’s, she’s shacked up with some boy.”

“Your mother isn’t answering her phone,” Brad said.

“She turns off the ringer.”

“Leigh has left messages.”

“My mother hates Leigh. If Cynthia wasn’t there, she’d call. Mama loves Cynthia.”

“Let me know when you hear from her so
we
can stop worrying.”

Jacob Gardner’s eyes relaxed and he smiled. “If that’s all,” Jacob said, lying down, “Cyn’s an adult. Cut the light off and get the hell out of my room.”

“Tell you what. If we talk about this again, it’ll be in
my
room.”

Brad walked to the door, which Winter had opened.

“By the way,” Jacob said. “I didn’t take Leigh away from you. You threw her to me.”

35

AS BRAD AND WINTER ENTERED THE MAIN DRAG
near the courthouse, the radio came to life.

“Sheriff, what’s your twenty?” Chief Deputy Roy Bishop’s voice crackled.

“I’m almost at the courthouse.”

“Me too,” Bishop said.

“I see you,” Brad said.

A cruiser flashed its lights ahead and pulled over on the opposite side of the wide street. Roy Bishop got out and hurried over as Brad rolled down the window. “What’s up, Roy?”

“The damned press is driving me crazy. We have to tell them something soon.”

“Soon,” Brad told him. “Tell them we’re getting close on the Adams murder, and as soon as we have things sorted out, we’ll let them know. You met Winter last night.”

“I did.” Roy reached over Brad to shake Winter’s hand. “Bettye said you were some kind of specialist. Welcome aboard.”

“Winter’s a retired U.S. marshal. Grew up in Cleveland, Mississippi. He’s agreed to help us with the Adams homicide and Beals. As a personal favor.”

The chief deputy gave Winter a quizzical look. “Wait a damn minute,” he said, his face reddening. “You’re
that
Winter Massey? I mean, Jesus Christ! You’re that U.S. marshal. Hell, I thought you would be taller.”

“So did my mother,” Winter said.

“We don’t get many murders around here,” Roy said. “Now we get two in one day. Jack Beals was a first-class prick, but he didn’t deserve to die like that. Hey, is this something bigger than it looks?”

“Looks plenty big to me as it is,” Winter said.

“Where’s David Scotoni?” Brad asked.

“At the Best Western with Walters watching him. He wants to get the hell out of Dodge.”

“No problem,” Brad said. “He’s told us everything he knows. Get his phone numbers and escort him to the state line.”

“Sure thing,” Roy said, straightening as a speeding Lincoln Navigator flew past, then made a sweeping U-turn. “Damn,” Brad said. “Go on, Roy. If you need me, use the cell. I don’t want to use the radio with the press all over the place.”

Winter saw a red-faced man in a suit who looked like a newscaster get out of the Navigator and race toward the truck. The man maneuvered around Bishop and looked into the cab.

“Brad,” he said.

“Ed,” Brad said. “I want you to meet Winter Massey. Winter, this is our prosecuting attorney, Ed Moore.”

Moore nodded at Winter. “I had a call from the head of MBI. They want in on these killings now. They said you’re blocking them so they want me to make the request. I wanted to clear it with you as a courtesy before I did it.”

“Don’t need them,” Brad said. “This is proceeding nicely.”

“Two homicides, Brad. Why wouldn’t you need them, for Christ’s sake?”

“That’s why I asked Massey in. He’s a specialist in this sort of thing and has no dog in the fight. Lab assistance is all I need from the MBI for now.”

“Captain Mackey was very insistent,” Moore said.

“He said I’m in over my head, right? They only want in on the Beals killing because it’s tied to a casino employee, and they want to clear it up however they can. We’re already on top of it and it’s staying that way.”

“Damn it, Bradley. If it concerns the casinos…” Moore said nervously.

“Relax, Ed. It concerns an ex-deputy dead guy who worked security at a casino. If you want, you can tell them it was an armed robbery gone bad. We both know that MBI will only come in and make us look bad if they can, to make sure the casino doesn’t get any negative publicity. They’re always working in the casinos’ best interests.”

“That’s not something I know at all,” Moore said defensively.

“Know this. If the MBI comes in, I’ll request the FBI come in and we’ll have us a sharp-elbow sideshow and I can guarantee you that the casinos will get more negative press than they can deal with.”

“Wait a minute,” Ed said. “That’s not something we want. That sounds like a threat.”

“I can make that a promise if you’d feel more comfortable with that. The FBI isn’t coming in unless I request their assistance,” Brad said. “MBI is not going to use my department to wipe the casino’s butt, and they aren’t going to bury anything as long as I’m in this office. If someone from the casino operation is responsible for a murder, that’s just going to be a shit-hits-the-fan deal. Early next week we’ll reevaluate where we are and if I need MBI, I’ll pull them in.”

Moore said, “Your office doesn’t exactly have a sterling reputation around the state. People see the MBI as better suited, less able to…”

“You say ‘be bought off,’ and I’ll climb out and beat your ass right here in the street. I whipped your ass in the fifth grade and I can do it again.”

“I’ve known you all my life, Brad. You don’t have to say shit like that to me.” Moore smiled. “This is still our county. It’s your call.”

“I know it.”

Using the back of his fingers, Ed Moore slapped Brad’s shoulder through the window.

He turned and took a few steps before turning around and coming back. “And, Brad. You didn’t beat my ass in the fifth grade. I slipped and fell.”

Brad pushed open the door, and Ed made a show of hurrying toward the Navigator. His laughter echoed richly in through the window as Brad rolled it up.

“In the fifth grade I whipped old Ed like a redheaded stepchild,” Brad said, winking at Winter. “He’s been in denial ever since.”

36

THE LAND-TRANSACTION RECORDS FOR THE COUNTY
were kept in the basement of city hall. A clerk who looked like a Jessica Tandy impersonator located the plot and its corresponding numbers on a county map and wrote them down. Armed with the scrap of paper, Alexa placed the book the clerk had pointed out on the table, opened it and ran her fingers down the columns, looking for the numbers for the southwest corner of the county.

She found the entry where Jacob Gardner had transferred title of the plot to Leigh nine years before. Checking the adjoining plots, she quickly discovered that a corporation named RRI Limited had systematically purchased the surrounding land over the past eighteen months.

Alexa decided the best way to check out this RRI corporation was to see whether the kind of people who would resort to violence might be connected to it. She dialed an extension at FBI headquarters and asked for Louis Sykes with the Organized Crime division.

“Louis, it’s Alexa. I need a favor.”

“Name it,” he said. “Anything but my peanut butter cookie recipe.”

“Can you check your files for a corporation named RRI Limited? All I have is the name on some land transfers.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll be waiting for your call.”

Alexa put the books back and went outside, where Winter and Brad had just parked. After Winter got out and opened the back door, she climbed into the backseat of Brad’s truck.

“A company named RRI Limited has been buying up the land around Leigh’s parcel.”

“It could be a hunting deal like Jacob told us,” Brad said. “But I wouldn’t believe Jacob if he said tornados scatter dirt. Who’d kill to put together a duck-hunting club?”

“Twenty-nine hundred acres so far,” Alexa said. “I assume that since RRI now owns all of the surrounding land, they’d want Leigh’s. I’m having OC look to see if there are any red flags associated with their name. Then we can look them up on the Internet and I’ve got friends who can get us the pertinent information.”

“I bet Jacob is aware of RRI’s purchase, and thinks he’ll make serious bucks on the deal,” Winter said. “If RRI can’t do whatever they have planned with their land unless they have hers, that’s a motive.”

“If anything happens to Leigh, the kids inherit the land,” Brad said, “but it would be tied up in probate for a long time.”

“Unless a judge sped that up for the right person or group,” Alexa said.

Winter said, “We could check to see if there are plans to improve the roads, deal with utility upgrades, power, sewage, water pipes, that sort of thing.”

“I haven’t heard anything,” Brad said. “Anybody starts pulling permits from the county, people talk. Maybe they’re waiting until they have the land sewed up to start that process.”

Alexa said, “I don’t know, Leigh, but I got the impression that something was eating at her.”

“Like her babysitter getting her head blown off?” Winter said. “Her daughter going AWOL?”

“Just a feeling I’ve got. You know her, Brad. Do you think Leigh is telling us everything? Is it possible that she knows more about the land than she’s letting on?”

“I’ve known Leigh most of my life. She’s a tough cookie and she pinches a dollar until Washington pees his pants, but if you’re insinuating…”

“I’m not casting aspersions on her character,” Alexa said. “But I’ve got a sense there’s things she isn’t telling us. I could be wrong.”

“My mother had this old adage. ‘Have more than you show, pay as you go, and tell less than you know,’” Winter said.

“That sounds like it was written about Leigh,” Brad said.

“What do you guys say to having a look at this land?” Alexa said. “I’d like to see what three thousand acres of worthless land looks like.”

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