Risky Undertaking (21 page)

“Was he convicted?”

“No. The case never came to trial. Get this, Barry. The prosecution's key witness committed suicide. Convenient, huh?”

My blood ran as cold as the mountain water beneath me. “And then he came here.”

“Not immediately. A follow-up article reported he closed the New Jersey company and returned to his business interests in South Boston.”

I whistled under my breath. “Hometown of Frankie Tyrell and Whitey Bulger.”

“Yep. And what better way to launder money than through a construction company. You can always be low bidder because you're flowing extra cash through the project.”

“Why wouldn't this have come to light during his election campaigns?”

“Come on. A local election of a state representative for rural mountain counties? By then, Collins had lived here twelve years. I'm sure the
Vista
didn't do any deep background investigation of him. And after that first election, he's run unopposed.”

My whole perspective of Mack Collins suddenly shifted. “Thirty years ago, Bulger must have sent him south to get out from under the microscope and start a new operation. Along the way, Collins pursued political clout as well.”

“A sweet setup,” Melissa said. “And it would explain why he's never run for higher office. The Charlotte and Raleigh papers would have scrutinized everything from his birth certificate on. What are you going to do now?”

“That's going to be Tommy Lee's call. And you know what you're going to do.”

“Who are you? My assignment editor?”

“No, thank God.” I heard the clatter of typing on a computer keyboard. “So, you're on it?”

“Yes, Deputy Clayton. My task is to learn what out-of-state construction companies are finalists for casino-related projects and then uncover Mack Collins hidden inside one of them. Now let me go to work.” Melissa hung up.

I stood on the bridge, thinking through the implications of her discovery. Mack Collins knew Frankie Tyrell. He may have come to Cherokee with the satchel of cash to pay Tyrell off. If so, then why the argument witnessed by Uncle Wayne? At that point, Tyrell didn't realize Kevin had stolen his money. Was it because Collins had expected Tyrell to leave immediately? That he didn't want their paths to overlap any longer than necessary?

They say there are no secrets in a small town. Senator Mack Collins, the person respected by our mountain community for so many years, was at best a criminal and at worst a murderer. Would he also condone the killing of an innocent child?

I pulled the photograph Kevin had given me and studied it in the sunlight. My first look within the gloom of the bamboo had focused on Danny's face, the sheer terror in his expression. Now I examined the whole picture. The colors were muted and blurry because the photo had been printed on ordinary computer paper. Danny appeared to be lying on a carpet. It wasn't a carpet I'd seen in Eddie's mobile home. The dark gray fell away into shadows like Danny was on his back in some kind of container.

In the lower corner, a bent piece of metal gleamed in the brightest section of the photograph. I held the paper closer. The partial view revealed enough for me to identify a tire iron. Danny Swift was in the trunk of a car. A large car.

I flashed back to Mack Collins at the funeral home, asking me to keep him informed of the progress of my investigation, asking as he leaned against the trunk of his big Lincoln.

Chapter Twenty-one

Conducting a funeral follows a procedure. I know the family is in a highly emotional state of grief, maybe even shock. My job is to walk them through a ritual which might have variations in its details but usually has the same destination—a country hillside cemetery.

Conducting a murder investigation follows a procedure. There is also a body and most likely a family in shock and grief. In this case, my job is to collect evidence, interview witnesses and persons of interest, and follow that evidence and those interviews wherever they may lead. At the beginning, I might have a hunch as to the final resolution, but twists and turns can bring me to a completely unexpected and unanticipated destination, one that I couldn't have imagined. And instead of ending at a country hillside cemetery, this investigation began there.

Now an unpredictable yet inevitable showdown loomed—a showdown with a powerful state senator and a Boston mobster. At the conclusion of a funeral, the dead are remembered and buried. I was facing an unknown conclusion where life and death still hung in the balance, and the only certainty was that someone in the game was going to lose.

I slid the photo back in the envelope and hurried up the hill to the Cherokee Police Department. Although I would stay clear of Kevin, there was no reason for me to halt my investigation. On the contrary, if anyone were watching me, a sudden shift in my behavior could be alarming. I should be ignorant of the kidnapping, but moving forward with Jimmy Panther's murder inquiry.

I'd become such a familiar face at the police station that I was buzzed through without having to say who I was seeing. I made my way to the dispatcher, a Cherokee woman in her late twenties, who looked at me with a harried expression. Her morning had already been a long one.

“Is Detective Sergeant Romero still at the Eddie Wolfe scene?” I asked.

Even though I wasn't in uniform, she must have known my role.

“Yes, Deputy Clayton.”

“It's urgent I speak with him. Can you patch the two-way through to my phone?”

“Yes, but the connection might be better coming into our system. You can use his desk and I'll buzz you with the line.”

I walked down the narrow hall to the office where Tommy Lee and I talked with Romero only two days earlier. I sat in the worn desk chair whose squeak was barely a whisper compared to the tortured screech under Romero's weight.

The dispatcher's voice came through the speaker phone. “Deputy Clayton, Romero's on line two.”

I thanked her and punched the flashing button. “Hector, are you close to leaving?”

“Not really. What's up?”

“An extremely urgent situation has arisen and I need to meet you as soon as possible.”

“What situation?”

I didn't want to go into details on an open police frequency. “My sheriff has new information you need to see in person regarding Jimmy Panther. The timing is critical and he wants your eyes to review it in case there's something his two eyes missed.”

The radio patch went silent a moment as Romero digested the obvious lie. Then he said, “OK. What if we meet someplace between us?”

“Sounds good. Where?”

“I'll call you from the road in about fifteen minutes. Maybe we can make lunch.”

Romero understood something critical was in the air and a cell phone-to-cell phone connection would be the most secure.

“All right. My treat. See you soon.” I dropped the receiver on the cradle and realized my jeep was still back at the casino. Romero would need to pick me up, but we could work out those details when he phoned again. In the meantime, I'd walk down to the village and look for a spot we could rendezvous. And, more importantly, I'd call Tommy Lee and alert him we might be arresting one of Gainesboro's most prominent citizens.

He answered the phone with an order. “You're going to wear a Kevlar vest. I'll bring it tonight.”

“All right. But you might want to delegate that errand. Our agenda may have changed.”

“I'm near the construction site,” Tommy Lee said. “Are you having trouble getting the soil samples from Romero?”

“I forgot to ask him.”

“You're kidding?” The sheriff was clearly annoyed.

“Melissa Bigham discovered Mack Collins' roots go back to South Boston, and he may have been laundering money for Whitey Bulger.”

Tommy Lee Wadkins was a man of few words. Now he was a man of no words. Without waiting, I updated him on Melissa's phone call and her new efforts to find a connection between Collins and out-of-state companies in the running for contracts.

When I finished, he asked, “Melissa will sit on this?”

“Yes. I told her something was going down tonight and that I would call her. She knows the Collins information is tied in somehow, but she's unaware it involves a kidnapped child.”

“Where's Mack Collins now?” Tommy Lee asked.

“I assume he's either meeting with the gaming commissioner or he's headed across state to Raleigh.”

“I wish I knew if he was still in Cherokee. If he's staying, then that looks like he's up to his armpits in this plot.”

“I can call him. He gave me all his numbers when he said he wanted to be kept informed about the case.”

“Do that. Tell him you're in Cherokee and you thought you saw him at the casino last night. You couldn't speak then, but you'd like to bring him up to speed on the investigation.”

“What if he just wants to do it over the phone?”

“Tell him you have some documents involving Darren Cransford that might or might not be significant. You need to show him in person. We know there's a rift between the two of them so Mack will be curious.”

“And if he's on his way to Raleigh?”

“Then I think he has no immediate play in tonight's events and we'll see what Melissa uncovers.”

“What documents am I going to show him?”

Tommy Lee chuckled. “It's what I'm going to show him. I'm going to have Melissa fax those newspaper articles to the Cherokee Police Department. Then you and I will confront him together.”

“Don't you think he'll warn Tyrell?”

“No. He knows nothing about our connection to Kevin. We're going to say the articles were supplied by Darren Cransford. He'll believe that because if Darren can discredit him, the opposition to the Catawba casino will be weakened.”

“What's your goal?”

“To see if he's rattled. See if he gives more information than he gets and hope he realizes that we're developing links that could be damaging, especially if something happens to Danny Swift.”

“What time do you want me to set it up?”

“Try for late afternoon or early evening. I'd like to keep him guessing till then. Meanwhile, go on with your investigation. Call me with whatever you can work out.”

I stopped along the side of the road and pulled out my wallet. Tucked behind a couple of twenties was the card with the litany of Mack Collins' phone numbers. His cell would be the most likely choice since he was either here or on the road.

“Collins here,” he said brusquely. My number was unfamiliar.

“Senator Collins, it's Barry Clayton.”

His tone immediately brightened. “Hello, Barry. What can I do for you? Is your uncle ready to testify?”

“I think we'll all be better off if you keep Uncle Wayne in reserve. I was wondering if you were still in Cherokee.”

For a few seconds there was no response and he must have been calculating how I knew where he'd been. I pressed on. “I saw you at the casino last night. I'm here working the Panther murder and meeting with the Cherokee police. Sorry I wasn't able to speak with you.”

“No problem. I was there to see the gaming commissioner, but I'm headed back to Gainesboro and on to Raleigh tomorrow.”

“That's too bad. Something's developed that I think you should see.”

“Really? Is it related to Luther?”

“It might be. It's definitely related to you and Luther's son Darren.”

Silence again, but this time I let it go on.

When I didn't elaborate, he asked, “Can't you fax it to me?”

“No, sir. It's potential evidence and shared jointly between us and the Cherokee police. I'm afraid I'm dealing with their chain of custody, however, as long as I've signed for it, I could review it with you. I'm sure it's nothing, but I have no control over what my counterparts here might do. As we discussed the other night, we don't want you to be blindsided.”

“All right. I suppose I can be back in an hour.”

“I'm afraid I'm not clear till around six. You might not know but Jimmy Panther's colleague Eddie Wolfe was murdered early this morning.”

A rush of air sounded in my ear as if someone had punched Collins in the stomach.

“Who?”

“I guess you could say he was Panther's lieutenant. Everyone expected him to pick up the mantle of leadership in the fight against the new casino.”

Collins' voice rose to an angry bark. “Is that what Darren's claiming? That I'm tied into these killings?”

I sidestepped the question. “Is six good, sir? Then I can bring you up to date on the whole day.”

He sighed. “Yes. Where?”

“I've still got a room at the casino hotel where we can talk privately.” I gave him the number and he promised to be there.

After a quick call to Tommy Lee to confirm the meeting with Collins and insure he would have Melissa Bigham fax the articles in time, I walked down the hill to the Cherokee museum. The redwood carving of Sequoyah towered over the front of the building and appeared much larger than when I first saw it from Tommy Lee's car. I circled the base where blocks of stone had been etched with the names of the seven Cherokee clans. Some were animals I'd expect. Wolf, Bird, and Deer. But others were significant in their unlikeliness. Long Hair Clan, Paint Clan, Blue Clan, and my favorite, the Wild Potato Clan.

My cell phone rang and I recognized Romero's number.

“Sorry to be so vague. I couldn't trust that we wouldn't be monitored by a scanner.”

“I gathered that,” he said. “What's happened?”

“I have evidence Danny Swift's been kidnapped. It's absolutely critical we keep it quiet.”

“Who's we?”

“You, me, Tommy Lee, and Kevin Malone, the friend of Tommy Lee who gave us the lead on Tyrell. I'm at the museum. Can you pick me up?”

“Yes. But then where?”

“What was your next move?” I asked.

“I was going back to Jimmy's. I called Cherokee Boxes and learned Eddie Wolfe didn't stay at work till midnight last Sunday. They finished at ten.”

“So he lied to Skye.”

“Or they were in it together,” Romero said. “I wanted to go through both Jimmy's summer lodge and his winter asi for any sign Swifty hid there. But a kidnapping changes everything.”

“Not necessarily,” I argued. “We can't have too much information. Just get me as soon as you can. I'll be the little guy standing beside Sequoyah.”

***

I briefed Romero on the way to Jimmy Panther's. The picture of Danny Swift unnerved him and he had serious doubts about the exchange I'd set in motion. I emphasized that we knew Danny had seen Jimmy and Eddie with the artifacts. If Eddie had taken Danny, then maybe Tyrell found the boy to be convenient leverage to get his money back.

Two points posed delicate handling with Romero. The way Kevin got Tyrell's money could undercut the Cherokee's acceptance of Kevin as the agent for the exchange. I told Romero that Kevin had somehow intercepted a payment drop and I left it at that.

The second sensitive issue concerned our suspicions regarding Mack Collins. He was well liked by the tribe and an advocate for their causes. Bringing him in as the possible mastermind of two murders would put Romero in an awkward position should our suspicions be unfounded and Mack Collins carry a grudge.

When we arrived at Emma Byrd's house, I saw an extra car in the front yard.

“Skye's here,” Romero said.

“Does she know about Eddie?”

“I didn't talk to her.” He opened his door. “We'll learn soon enough.”

“Nothing about the kidnapping,” I said.

“I understand. We can say we're here to notify Skye, and you'd like to look one more time for traces of Swifty.”

This time Romero headed for the front porch, not the rear door. I kept pace a few yards behind him. As he reached the first step, Emma emerged from the door. She wore another shapeless dress, this one blue rather than brown, and it hung to the tips of her moccasins.

She nodded to me, and then spoke to Romero. “Are you here for Skye?”

“Yes.”

“You were good to come, but she learned about an hour ago.”

“I'm sorry,” Romero said. “I've been tied up trying to figure out what happened.”

She beckoned us on the porch with a single wave of her thin hand. “She's in the kitchen. I fixed her some potato soup. Would you join us?”

I looked to Romero for the proper response because I didn't know if it would be an insult to refuse her hospitality.

“Thank you, Miss Emma, but it will be better if Skye finishes and then we can talk. Meanwhile, we'd like to take one more look at Jimmy's. The Swift boy's still missing and I want to make doubly sure he didn't come here. We should be back in about twenty minutes, if that's all right.”

Emma studied the big man a moment, as if sensing there was more going on. Then she shrugged. “Take your time. I'll keep Skye here till you return.” She turned around and disappeared into the house.

As we walked up the path, I asked Romero, “When you were here yesterday, did you notice anything different from when we searched the day before?”

“No. But if Swifty had heard us coming and didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be found. He'd melt into the forest like his ancestors. He had a gift.”