Voodoo Daddy (A Virgil Jones Mystery) (5 page)

“Yes, sir,” I said. Thought,
hmm
, again.

The governor shook his head and looked at no one. “Jesus, Barney Burns. Who’d have ever thought…….” Then to Pearson. “Where’s officer Cauliflower? Perhaps he can clear us a path out of here so we can get downtown.”

* * *

I looked at Cora and was about to say something when Pearson stuck his head back in. “Uh, I just want to be sure we’re clear on something. The Governor, when he said ‘catch him or kill him’……..what he was really saying was ‘catch him.’ Just so we’re clear on that, okay?”

* * *

Once Pearson was finally gone, I looked at Cora and said, “What aren’t they saying?”

“You never answered Pearson’s question. What do you know about Sunrise Bank?”

“What’s to know? They’re a bank, just like any other, aren’t they?”

Cora pursed her lips. “In many ways, they are. But did you know that there’s a bank up in the northern part of the state—I can’t remember the name—but they’re based out of South Bend. Strictly local, people walk in and out all day and deposit their checks, take out loans, the whole thing. Just a regular local bank,
but
, they also happen to be the third largest specialty financer in the entire country. Garbage trucks, rental cars, aircraft for regional air carriers, the works. If it runs or flies, they’ve got their hand in it.”

“Fascinating stuff, Cora, really. But what does that have to do with Sunrise or Dugan?”

“Care to guess where Pate’s ministry does their banking?”

“So like the bank up in South Bend, Sunrise does specialty financing, right?”

“You got it, Jones man. And it’s big business, at least according to the Governor. We’re talking billions of dollars in outstanding loans to religious institutions all across the country. Big, big stuff.”

I thought about that for a few minutes. “If they’re doing that much business, what’s the tie-in with Pate? He’s regional at best. Why has his name come up?”

“Pate just borrowed over five million dollars from Dugan’s bank to buy a run down church in Broad Ripple.”

“Maybe I’m not quite the detective I think I am, because I still don’t see how that would make Pate a suspect.”

“Maybe you should go over to Dugan’s office and look things over. You’ll probably revise your last statement after you do. I’ve attached his office as part of the crime scene and I sent Rosencrantz and Donatti over there as soon as I heard what happened out here. They’ve got his office locked down and are personally standing guard outside until you get there. There are only two things on Dugan’s desk. One is a copy of Pate’s financials and the other is a copy of a Texas Department of Insurance investigator’s report. They have an open file on him. He started his ministry there five years ago with the proceeds from an insurance claim that paid out over a million bucks when his Houston church turned to a pile of ash one night. He brought the money here and set up shop all over again. He calls it Grace Community Church, and it’s mortgaged to the hilt.

“And the church over in Broad Ripple? The one he just bought? It looks like it’s being held together with baling twine. I think they have a congregation of about thirty people, all dirt poor. The building is about to be condemned by the city, the lot can’t be worth more than about fifty grand and the victim, Franklin Dugan is the one who approved the loan to Pate. He’s also the guy who financed the vast majority of the Governor’s campaign when he ran for office. Word on the street is ol’ Sermon Sam is thinking about making a run at the Governor’s chair. A quick five million would make a nice campaign starter fund, don’t you think?”

Then, as if she hadn’t quite made her point clear to me, she added, “Politics. It’s good stuff, huh? By the way, Rosencrantz says the bank is calling an emergency board meeting. Should be starting anytime now. You might want to stop by at some point. When you get there, ask for Margery Brennan. She’s Dugan’s secretary, or personal assistant or whatever they’re called these days. Keep me in the loop, will you?”

* * *

I walked outside and back down to the street and saw Sandy at the back of an EMS van getting her blood pressure taken. The two news helicopters still circled overhead, their news feeds probably streaming live video of the scene direct to anyone who had their television set turned on, though there wasn’t much to be seen from the air. The crime scene technicians had erected two tents with side flaps, one covering Dugan’s body at the end of his drive, the other over the top of Trooper Burns and his squad car. I estimated a total of about fifty uniformed officers on the scene from all three jurisdictions, City, County, and State. Metro Homicide would be in charge of the scene, and my team, while technically over the Metro Homicide Task Force, would do what we do best: work the fringes, the areas outside of normal investigative procedures.

I got to Sandy just as the paramedics were finishing up. “How you doin?”

“I’m okay. Jesus, what a mess, huh?”

“That about says it. So, you’ve had a little while to think about it. Give me something I can use,” I said.

The paramedic interrupted. “If it can wait, I’d like to get her downtown. Her blood pressure is off the charts. I mean way up, and so is her pulse. You said you bumped your head, Miss?”

Sandy shot the medic a look. “It’s Detective. And yes, I bumped my head, but it’s no big deal. It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Nevertheless, we’ve got to have you looked at. You may be concussed. The docs will know for sure.”

Sandy turned to me. “Jonesy, can you do something about this?”

“I sure can. See you at the hospital.”

“Jonesy.”

“No way, Sandy. You’re going. That’s a direct order.”

“Okay, okay. But listen, before I do, you said you wanted something you could use. I think we’ve got two shooters, both with silenced weapons. The shots were muffled, like a quiet backfire from a car engine. Not even that loud really. The loudest thing I heard was the ratcheting cycle after the shots. If it wasn’t for that, I might not have even thought they were shots at all, you know?”

“Why two shooters?”

“Well, it’s the sequence. I’ve been going over it in my head. First I heard a pop, then another pop before I heard the cycle action. Then there were two more pops closer together and two fast ratcheting sounds. So that means one shot from something, a rifle maybe, that doesn’t cycle. Something with a bolt action? I’ll tell you something else too, the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that the first pop sounded different—quieter—than the rest. So, two victims, two guns, two shooters, right?”

“Sounds right. But, you know, if you heard it wrong, missed the first ratchet because you weren’t listening for it……”

“No, I wondered about that. But I didn’t miss it. It was quiet this morning. I was quiet. And I was close.”

“Okay. You can write it up later. Right now you’re going in to get checked out.”

She raised her eyebrow at him, then let it go. “You think this is about the Governor?”

“Have you met Pearson yet?” I said.

“The Governor’s snake? Yeah, we met a few days ago. Hell of a guy.”

“Isn’t he though? Anyway, they—the Governor and Pearson—made it clear this had nothing to do with them, or at least they don’t want it to look like it did.”

“And you think different?”

“I like to keep an open mind. The Governor asked about you, by the way.”

“Yeah?” Sandy said.

“Yeah. Twice. Say, I didn’t see Mrs. McConnell up at the house. Where’s she?”

Sandy let her eyelids droop a quarter inch. “She’s been out of town for the last few days. Sister in Oregon or something like that.”

“I see.”

“I don’t think you do, Jonesy.”

I bit the inside of my lower lip. “Get checked out, Sandy. You did good. Really.”

Sandy just stared at me.

* * *

I looked around until I saw Metro’s lead detective, Ron Miles, speaking with one of the crime scene techs just outside the tent next to Dugan’s body. Ron’s white hair was mussed out of place and he kept running his hand over it, trying to flatten it to the top of his head. The knees on his pants were covered in dirt and grime.

“Sorry about Burns, Jonesy. Somebody told me he was your training officer?”

“Yeah, he was.”

“So, the State getting in on this?”

“Yeah, something like that,” I said. “The Governor wants us to take a peek. See if we can get in front of it sort of quick. We’ll probably just shadow you guys. See what we can see.”

“In other words, we do all the work and you guys get all the credit.”

“Naw, you can have the credit. Like I said, we just want to try to get in front of it, if we can.”

“Doesn’t look like it’s going to be easy. We don’t have jack-shit on this one.”

“Tell me what you’ve got so far,” I said.

“You spoke with Sandy?”

“Just now.”

“Okay,” Miles said. “Well, there’s that, and not much else. Not yet anyway, and most of it’s speculation at this point. One of the techs found the slug, or I guess I should say what was left of the slug that took Burns out. It cracked the front window, but didn’t penetrate. It ricocheted off the window and imbedded in the top of the dash. He says it looks like it was probably from a .223, but he says he can’t be sure until they get it back to the lab for tests.”

“What about Dugan?”

“One to the head, two in the chest. Coroner says he’ll get what’s left of the slug fragments when he does the post. There’s some tattooing on his skull from the powder burns, so it was up close and personal.” Miles pulled the tent flap back and they stepped inside. As bad as Burns looked, Dugan was somehow worse. He ended up flat on his back, his arms out at his sides like a kid ready to make an angel in the snow. One of his slippers had fallen off his foot and lay next to his hip. I looked for a full minute then stepped back outside the tent and let the flap close after Ron stepped out. “Jesus,” I said to no one in particular.

“Yeah,” Miles said.

“So, what do you think about Sandy’s take? Two shooters?”

“I think it works. Dugan was close….foot, foot and a half. Burns wasn’t. So, if Sandy’s got the timing right—and why wouldn’t she—there must have been two. I mean, how do you shoot from a distance with one weapon and then take another weapon and run over and pop someone up close? Or better yet, why? Just doesn’t add up.”

“What if she heard it wrong?”

Miles flattened his hair with his palm. “Well, I just don’t think she did. Plus, I’ll tell you something, even if she did hear it wrong and there was only one shooter, what’s he gonna do? Take out Dugan up close and then run away with Burns just sitting there? That doesn’t work. And neither does taking out Burns first from a distance and then walking up and popping Dugan. So I think she’s on the money. Two shooters, two weapons, all at the same time.”

We talked it over for a few more minutes running through different variations on the theme, but in the end I thought the scenario held up.

 “Alright, keep doing what you’re doing here,” I said. “I’m going to work a specific angle, but I want you to run this by the numbers. Let’s not let anything fall through the cracks.”

“Like I ever do. You know who’s got the best closure rate in Metro, right?”

“Yeah, I know. So do what you do.”

“I intend to. So, what’s the angle?”

I looked at him for a second. “Uh, it’s sort of complicated. Cora’s got us looking at something.”

Miles looked away for a moment, as if studying something off in the distance. “Well, I’ll keep you updated with whatever we find,” he said.

“That’ll do,” I said. I took one last look around. “Alright, I’m heading out. Find us something, Ron. I need a thread to pull on.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Jonesy. This one has that ‘might kick our ass’ sort of feel. Is this about the Governor, you think?”

“Ever met Bradley Pearson?” I said.

CHAPTER SIX

I drove over to the hospital and walked into the Emergency Department and when I did my gun set off the metal detector at the doorway. I was about to badge the security guard headed my way until I noticed it was a friend of mine from the Sherriff’s Department. “Hey Kev. Double dipping these days?” I said, as we shook hands.

“Are you kidding me? My oldest daughter is getting married this spring, and the twins start college in a year and a half. If I didn’t have to sleep, I’d be triple dipping.”

“Amber is getting married? Jesus, I used to bounce her on my knee.”

Kevin scratched the back of his head. “Yep, my baby’s getting married.”

“Getting old, Kev.”

“Huh, tell me. I don’t have much time to think about it though. Too busy trying to make enough money to pay for the wedding.”