Red Dog Saloon (6 page)

Lowering
his tone, Cliff recalled a change that came over the well-known club in
the early eighties.

“At
some point Earl Cutts took over the place. I believe it was sometime in the
eighties,” Cliff revealed. “That’s when things started to change. See, it was
around then they passed legal liquor in Easton so bars started popping up, nice
pubs folks could go to instead of the old Red Dog which was getting pretty long
in the tooth by then. Plus the Red Dog was out in the country located right on
the most dangerous curve in the whole county. Frankly, whoever built the place
should have had his head examined. I know of at least two people who got killed
out there by wandering out in the highway which was just a few steps from the
front door of the bar. I mean drunks and traffic don’t mix.

“Now,
once the decent folks started frequenting the clubs in the city, the Red Dog
turned into a hangout for thugs and rednecks. As I think you know, back during
the eighties and until it burned down in the nineties, you didn’t go out there
unless you knew how to use your fists. It was the first place some folks
stopped after they got out of the penitentiary and was pretty popular with your
wannabe tough guys. Of course the fact Earl Cutts ran the place added to the
issue since he didn’t care much what went on, especially since he was dealing
more than alcohol from behind his bar. We’re talking cocaine, pot and pills. It
was like a drug store.

Sam
stopped the story teller for a moment, wondering aloud about any incidents that
could have left bad blood over the years. Cliff scratched his scraggly beard as
he considered the question for a moment.

“There
were a couple of stabbings out there but those were over women,” Cliff began as
pressed his brain for details. “And there was Jim Cole who was beaten to death
with a pool cue out there. That was reportedly over a gambling debt. They
charged Sid Bouldin with it but the jury ended up hung since all the witnesses
as well as the victim were drunk when the killing happened. Some even claimed
Earl Cutts did it himself trying to break up a brawl before they busted up his
bar. I guess we’ll never know who did it for sure since Earl supposedly burned
up when the Red Dog burned down.”

“Supposedly?”
Sam asked.

“Well,
sheriff, if you’d bother reading my story on the fire you’d notice they only
found his dentures in the rubble,” Cliff responded. “Granted, it wasn’t the
most meticulous fire scene investigation in history since your predecessor did
it but they did sift through what was left and didn’t find any other remains.
That’s why my story read he was assumed dead.”

“Couldn’t
the fire have been hot enough to incinerate his remains?” Sam posed.

“Sure,
and that’s probably what happened. It was a huge fire. The flames could be seen
clearly all the way in town,” Cliff agreed. “It really doesn’t matter since
Earl would be pretty deep into his eighties by now if he wasn’t burned up in
the fire.”

“What
did you mean about my predecessor?” Sam asked.

The
sheriff caught the reporter’s barb at the former sheriff’s handling
of the crime scene investigation.

“All
I’m saying is no one went out of their way to figure out who torched the
place,” Cliff said. “They didn’t even call in the fire marshal’s office. They
just worked it themselves, the sheriff’s department that is, and shoved it in
the closed case files. If you ask me they were glad Earl went up in smoke along
with the old Red Dog. I got the feeling they really didn’t want to find out who
done it.”

While
enlightened by the reporter’s chronicling of the history of the old bar, Sam
was still disappointed as the newsman had been unable to shed any light on a
connection between the murders and the long-gone tavern.

“I
suppose a lot of secrets burned up along with the late Mr. Cutts,” Sam surmised.
“I’d hoped to find a common thread between our murders and the old bar but I
guess that was just wishful thinking.”

“Sorry
I couldn’t help you sheriff but I honestly can’t think of anything that would
have hung around so long, that is unless Earl Cutts has come back from the
ashes to seek his revenge,” Cliff chuckled as he banged his pipe on the
edge of his desk as if to clean it out. “You don’t believe in ghosts do you
sheriff?”

“Hey,
after the past couple of days I’m not so sure anymore,” Sam admitted.

“Okay,
your turn,” Cliff countered. “I’ve shared my vast knowledge of local history,
now it’s your turn to give me the scoop on what happened out there this
morning. Your men have the place sealed off tight.”

“Yeah,
I told them to keep the press away,” Sam quipped. “Especially old farts that
carry pipes. Do you ever smoke that thing?”

“Smoking
is bad for you sheriff,” Cliff responded as he indignantly shoved the pipe back
in his mouth. “Now tell me about our latest murder. You can start with our
victim’s name. Your boys wouldn’t even give me that.”

Sam
was surprised the veteran reporter hadn’t been able to get the name already. He
must be slipping in his old age.

“Our
victim’s name is Eddie Young, age forty-two, an employee of…” Sam began before
being cut off by the newsman.

“Eddie
Young?” Cliff asked. “As strange as it sounds, that rings a bell.”

“It
should. He’s lived here all his life,” Sam responded. “You probably had him on
a couple of your court dockets.”

“No,
I mean it rings a bell with what you were talking about,” Cliff clarified.
“Eddie and our last victim, Andy Crouch, was old running buddies and frequented
the Red Dog.”

“Yeah
I knew that,” Sam said. “I went there a couple of times back in the day
myself.”

“It’s
more than that sheriff,” Cliff continued. “They were part of a little clique
that kind of ruled the roost out there just before the fire closed the doors
permanently.”

“Ah,
okay. So I suppose they made some enemies then,” Sam said. “Anyone in particular
you can recall?”

“Actually,
now that you put the two together, yes, there was something,” Cliff said, his
comment causing the sheriff to raise an eyebrow. “It was really little more
than rumor. Nothing was ever proven but there was a lot of talk and this was
right before the fire.”

“Well,
don’t keep a man waiting,” Sam said with a tone of excitement in his voice.

“Word
was that not long before the fire there was an incident that happened out at
the club involving the group your two recent victims were in,” Cliff began.
“They hung out with three or four tough guy wannabes pretty well every Saturday
night.”

“Any
recollection who these other guys were?” Sam asked.

Sitting
silently in deep thought, it was apparent Cliff was trying to rip the memory
from the back of his mind.

“One
of them was none other than the sheriff’s own son,” Cliff began, referring
to Bart Foster.

C
liff's recollection
confirmed Sam’s suspicion that Bart was connected with the first two victims.
Something in the sheriff's gut told him Bart was deeply involved in whatever
was going on.

"I
think
another was Stevie Grissom.” Cliff added after another moment of thought.

Cliff
paused again in an attempt to recall the other names, his face pained as he
pushed himself to remember. He reluctantly gave up, hopelessly stuck.

“I
can’t remember the other two, or maybe there were three,” Cliff admitted. “I
may not have even known them anyway, I just know there was a gang of six or
seven and they were real hellions.”

“Okay,
so you say there was something happened involving their group,” Sam
interjected.

“Yes,
well the rumor was that one night there were some girls went out there, young
girls, teenagers,” Cliff said.

The
old newsman leaned forward as one often would when repeating a rumor.

“At
some point the other girl, or girls, went home and left one of them
alone there with that drunken group of thugs. Well, one thing led to another
and the girl was raped by them, gang raped from what I heard.”

“Why
didn’t I ever hear about this?” Sam asked. “This is the first time I’ve heard
anything like that.”

Sam
had lived in Castle County all his life with the exception of his time in the
military. He figured he would have heard about something as heinous as a young
girl being raped at the shady night spot.

“Well,
first off, there were never any charges brought so that’s why you didn’t see it
in the pages of the newspaper,” Cliff began. “And second there never was an
investigation since the sheriff’s son was right in the middle of it. Word was
the girl was either run off or paid off and the whole thing was dropped. It
wasn’t long after that the bar burned down and their old gang broke up.”

“Do
you remember the girl’s name?” Sam inquired. “Any idea where she went or who
her family was or even who she was with that night?”

“I’m
sorry sheriff but I’ve slept since then,” Cliff responded, obviously irritated
with his own memory. “But if it comes to me I’ll call you.”

“You
do that if you would,” Sam requested.

The
sheriff was encouraged by Cliff's recollections despite the obvious holes in
the old reporter's memory.

“Okay,
now, about the head,” Cliff asked as he looked for his reward for the
information he had just provided.

“Gone,”
Sam shot back.

“Gone?”
Cliff asked.

“Yes,
nowhere to be found,” Sam confirmed. “We assume the killer took it with him as
a souvenir.”

“Do
have any idea on the murder weapon sheriff?” Cliff wondered.

“Yes,
something sharp,” Sam quipped as he got up to leave. “I’ll call you once we
have anything else we can tell you. You do the same with me if you recall
anymore names. And remember, mums the word on the whole Red Dog thing. And,
it’s up to you, but for Eddie’s mother’s sake, keep the whole missing head
thing on the down low if you would. He’s having a closed casket and she never
actually viewed the body so she doesn’t know his head is, well, that his head
isn’t with the rest of him. It’s up to you but I’d say "Dark Man Sought in
Killing Spree.". I think that might sell a few papers.”

“You
have my word, sheriff,” Cliff said, crossing his heart. “Just make sure I get
the exclusive and the book rights. And I like the headline. If you ever get
tired of being sheriff come down here and I’ll put you to work.”

Sam
was intercepted by Kendal Parks as he stepped out the door of the paper. The
trim, slightly balding investigator pulled into the parking lot just as the
sheriff exited the building.

“I
got them,” Kendal said as he waved a handful of papers. “It took a
little bit but I got them.”

Sam
scratched his head as the excited investigator jumped out of his car. What
was the detective talking about?

“The
phone records,” Kendal reminded the sheriff. “We know who Eddie
Young called and when. All he had was a landline. His cellphone was cut
off for nonpayment.”

His
eyes lighting up given Kendal’s quick work, Sam took the documents from his
investigator.

“Nice
work, Kendal,” Sam said.

The
investigator beamed with pride from the sheriff's compliment.

Scanning
the paper, Sam immediately noticed several calls the day of Eddie’s death to
the same number. Only one of the calls took up any time.

“Do
we know who this call was to?” he asked as he pointed to the frequently
called number; the first call made around the time Sam visited Eddie's
home.

Kendal
referred to his notes and promptly provided the answer.

“That
would be Foster Motors,” Kendal replied. "It's actually registered to Bart
Foster."

Sam
ran his finger down the page of numbers and came to the last call made in the
mid-evening hours. The single number reflected a call lasting about five
minutes.

“Who’s
this?” Sam asked as Kendal again referred to the papers.

“That
would be to a Karen and Stevie Grissom,” Kendal replied.

His
answer sent up a red flag. “Bingo!” Sam exclaimed.

“Excuse
me,” Kendal said, wondering what caused the sheriff’s reaction.

The
sheriff didn’t want to reveal his suspicions until he had a few more pieces of
evidence to support the theory so he decided to keep his thoughts to himself.
He also didn’t want to reveal what could be a crack in the case to one
investigator before the other since that could cause issues between the two
lawmen who often seemed more like jealous siblings rather than fellow officers
of the law.

“Nothing,”
Sam replied with a bit of guilt. “Well, maybe nothing, maybe something. I’ll
let you know when I know.”

Confused
by his boss’ odd statement, Kendal chalked it up to overwork and the stress of
having two unsolved homicides in his county.

“If
you say so,” Kendal said.