Junior looked with defiance written all over his face, Rory said, "Junior we can do this the easy way or the hard way. We can interview here or up in North Bend in an interrogation room. You can also have your lawyer meet us there if you like!
Junior came up as if he was poked with a electrical cattle prod. His mother switched off the TV. Bessie came in rubbing her sixteen year old blue eyes. Stacy was still trying to understand why her mother called her to witness the interview, but maybe to learn something?
Stacy had her notebook out as Rory asked, "Junior we know you worked the swing shift until 11 pm. What we don't know is what you did afterwards and what time you can home. We need names to verify your story.
"Am I a suspect," he cried out. "I never did nothing. Me and Eddie went to a party at Greg's house until around 3 am. Then we came home. There were probably 20 people there. I can give you name and phone numbers."
"Who can verify the time you and your cousin came home," asked Rory.
"I can," said Bessie. Even though I'd like to see him squirm, it's true he came home just before 3 am. I was up watching TV and the movie was just over. I looked at the clock to see what time it was. I decided to go to bed. Me and my cousin Ellen were going shopping in Coos Bay on Saturday."
"Junior, did you see anything unusual at the store when you came home Friday night," asked Rory.
"To tell you the truth, I was kind of wasted. Eddie was driving, but he didn't say anything that I remember.
"How about you Bessie, did you see or hear anything late Friday night," asked Stacy.
''Nothing out of the ordinary, but wait, the dogs made a hell of a racket around 1:30 am. Dad went out and yelled at them. I went back watching a stupid movie," said Bessie.
"Okay, thanks for now. Don't leave town. I'm sure we have more questions later on. Now Junior give my partner here the names and phone numbers of people who can swear they say you up until about 2:30 am or later," said Rory.
Next stop was at Amos Perkins to see Eddie Perkins; who by now knew they were coming. Indeed yes he did because he was waiting at the door of an old 12' wide mobile home. When asked about what the place looked like, Stacy only said it was the worst place she'd ever been in. It was so bad, they did the interview outside. Eddie's story was the same as Junior's yarn. There was no help or leads there, except the dogs barking at 1:30 am could indicate the time of murder.
On the way back to her house, Rory said, "We need the DMV on our victim's vehicle. I'll get the ball rolling when we stop."
"I'm hungry, let's go out on the Beach Loop road and have something nice to eat. I'll even let you buy," she said laughing.
If she only knew how much he'd enjoying paying…….. well … never mind. He knew he was lost in a fog of either love or lust; he couldn't distinguish one from the other at this point in time. One thing he did know and that something had to happen sooner or later or he would slip off the deep end.
Dinner was nice with good conversation. Rory was every bit the gentlemen. Stacy found out he was a local Oregonian from the Portland area. His parents lived in Beaverton. Father was a retired fireman and mother sold real estate. Nowadays father played golf and mother worked the office. He had one sister, older, and lived back east. They were never close, but stayed friendly.
Stacy thought he'd come from a nice family; much like her own. Her family was small, mostly because her mother passed on early, however, her father like it when she was home with him; especially when he had someone to cook for.
Monday morning the two detectives and Stacy found out the victim had had many jobs in his short life. His latest job was custodian at a substance abuse clinic in Gresham. A phone call verified he had worked there, but quit just last week. Meanwhile the Portland State Police were searching the victim's apartment. Rory didn't expect any information forthcoming until later that day. The DMV indentified Glen Wilson's vehicle as a 1980 Chevrolet van. It had a personalized license plate: SWEPR. Well, Stacy thought, to each their own.
Stacy followed up on the drug rehab center. There was something nagging at her about the victim having worked there until just recently. What she wanted was a current and past list of patients. As the wheels were turning, she was especially interested to see if a Gordon Yeast, son of Sheriff Clinton Yeast, had been a patient. Private and confidential information is what she was told right up front from a caustic person on the other end of the line. Stacy wondered if there was another way around the information needed. She called her chief in Bandon.
"Hey chief, I need a favor I guess. I need to know if Gordon Yeast, son of the sheriff, was at the Gresham Drug Rehab Clinic?"
"That's an easy one officer. Yes, he was and if memory serves, he just completed his tour at the end of the month. His father volunteered the information just the other day. Oh, and by the way, you're welcome," he said hanging up before her.
The three investigators went to lunch while waiting for the state police to search the victim's apartment. Rory was driving; Ben riding his usual shotgun with Stacy in the back. "Okay Stacy, what you thinking," asked Rory.
"I'm thinking Glen Wilson was blackmailing patients where he worked. Somehow he must have pictures that he's using to extort money. We need to visit that place; if possible."
"Hum, you think so huh? Why do you think so Stacy," asked Ben.
"Well, he lived in Portland. He had four crisp one hundred dollar bills in his wallet. He's in the neighborhood of a former patient. I think he arranged a meet at the convenience store with Gordon Yeast for a payoff. Obviously things went from bad to worse for Glen Wilson. As a joke, they super glued his feet to the store's wall. If I'm not mistaken, we'll find a lot of evidence at Glen Wilson's apartment to confirm my suspicions," said Stacy.
"If what you say is confirmed Stacy, then we need DNA from Gordon Yeast in the worst way. If we can establish matching DNA from the sperm, then we have a strong case for the prosecution. If not, then we need to find who sodomized the victim. Also, as hairy as the victim was, maybe we could do a vacuum job on his car; if he has a car. Let's check on that with DMV," said Rory as they pulled into Denny's restaurant.
Stacy didn't miss the seating arrangement whereby Rory positioned himself directly across from her. She knew his feelings. It was so obvious that a high school girl could see the 'wanting' dripping off his chin. However, Stacy was respectful enough to not lead him on. Ben who saw it very well, just inwardly smiled and orders a cob salad with a diet coke. Stacy had crab salad, while Rory wolfed down a half pound cheese burger.
Back at the station, they found a work record for Glen Wilson. For the last five years he'd held jobs from fast food places to corporate janitorial work. Stacy noticed he had worked at the Beaverton Car Wash. She knew the owner and gave him a call. They chatted a bit and Ron dug out the file on Glen Wilson. He said, "He wasn't a bad worker, but we caught him pawing through the customers cars while he detailed the insides. I warned him about that and he promised to quit being snoopy. Another employee told me he was stealing porn books from under the seats when they were available. I gave him his walking papers. Now, I want to see you again. Nothing but friends for dinner?"
"I'm game Ron. I'm in the middle of a homicide and when I'm in your area, or you're down my way, let's get together. And thanks," said Stacy.
Later a call came in with the fax busy printing out sheet after sheet of lewd pictures of men together doing sexual acts. Stacy didn't find the picture offensive, but rather evidence in a murder case. The attitude would change, of course, if children were involved.
The three investigators sat around a table passing the pictures back and forth. Rory was on the phone with the lead detective who'd preformed the search. He said, "The place Rory is full of porn. There're video tapes, pictures, books, magazines and a computer full of downloaded digital pics. We've got a guy who going through the computer now looking for an address book with phone numbers. I think you're right that this victim was blackmailing current or former patients. I'm not sure whether or not you should come up to Portland or we should box everything and send it down to you. You let me know," said Paul.
"Talk about a can of worms," said Rory. What we need now is to make a plan and follow the plan step by step. First we need Gordon's vehicle found. Next we need his DNA. Any idea how to get his DNA guys? There were some fragments of prints on the glue bottles, so we need his prints also. After that we need to ID some of these blackmail victims to confirm Glen Wilson was shaking them down. Additionally we need to find his van, if possible. What else do we need," he asked looking from Stacy to Ben and back to Stacy again.
"I know Gordon Yeast. I wouldn't say we are friends, but I know him well enough to strike up a conversation. If hasn't nothing to hide, then he'll give me his DNA. If he's hiding something, well, then I'll steal the water glass or coke glass from the restaurant I'll take him to. My chief told me one of his officers is from Langlois. He'll search for the missing van.
Stacy went back to Bandon to make the call to Gordon Yeast. She also wanted to talk to her father about the Yeast family. He always knew more than he said; she inwardly smiled as she turned right on the old highway to Bandon from Coquille. In two minutes she was in the police station talking to the dispatcher Flo. Flo was a wealth of local gossip and Stacy had asked about the sheriff and his son Gordon as regards substance abuse and treatment. Flo said, "Gordon is home now. I think he came back the first of the month. As far as I know it's been real quiet as regards what he's doing or what he plans to do."
"What do you remember of the rape accusation that the Perkins girl claimed against Gordon," asked Stacy.
"Because the deputy who responded to the beach, destroyed any evidence, the sheriff's son skated," said Flo.
"I met Ellen the other day and she seemed a little spacey to me. Is she packing a full load upstairs," asked Stacy?
"Word has it that she is a little slow. Some might think incest was involved, but hard to prove. Anyway, that's water under the bridge. Gordon Yeast is a no good man who will probably wind up in prison some day," said Flo as she turned to answer a radio call from an officer on patrol. Stacy went to see her chief and father.
For anyone to observe the Bandon Chief of Police in his office, they would think he did nothing all day long except play with a yellow pencil and a legal pad on his desk. Seldom would anyone see but only a few scribbles on the note pad. Stacy sat down and asked, "Chief, the other day Sheriff Yeast was in to see you. Did that have anything to do with our case," she asked.
"Yes and no. It seemed to me he was digging for information about your case. He seemed eager to know what, who, when and where all that stuff concerning the homicide. I told him I knew very little as it was out of my hands. He did inquire that you were involved and that I would know more than just a few things. I told him you were very close to the chest with information. I added it was none of my business, but if it became my business, I would want to know all there is to know," said the chief.
"What about his son Gordon Yeast. I need to see him and don’t want to go in cold, so to speak. I need his DNA and prints," said Stacy.
"Prints we have from the time at the beach party. DNA is another matter. You'll find a way I'm sure. In my opinion, the kid is not worth much. Drugs and alcohol are monkeys on his back. Let me see if I can find out where he hangs out these days from some guys I know up in Coquille," said the chief.
"I'd like to meet him in a restaurant where I can, hopefully, get his DNA.
"Like you did with the golf course case, just ask him to volunteer his DNA," said the chief.
Stacy went to her desk in a room that served all four of the police officers. She felt lucky to even have a desk considering the size of the small town of Bandon with less than 2000 citizens. She made the call to the Sheriff's house where Gordon was staying. Stacy was a little surprised when Gordon answered the phone. She told him who she was and asked for a get together. He hemmed and mumbled some unintelligent words that had nothing to do with answering the question she put to him. Finally he said, "Okay, if you're buying I'm eating."
"Yes, I'm buying Gordon. I'll meet you at the Birdcage in thirty minutes; okay?"
"Are you still as cute as you used to be Stacy Foreham," asked Gordon.
"Seeing is believing Gordon Yeast," answered Stacy.
An Empty Bird Cage
Stacy was a little surprised Gordon Yeast showed up at the Birdcage Restaurant. He was even on time. She noticed he had filled out and looked like a young man, instead of a pimple faced teen she remembered. He seemed confident with a nice smile, as he sat down across from her in the booth. Both stared at each other for a few seconds. Then he said, "Yes, seeing is believing Stacy. You're a damn site better looking now than before."
"Well, you're not too hard on the eyes either," she replied. "I'm a little hungry so let's order."
The waitress was hanging around waiting for their order. It was just before dinner time so the place wasn't so busy. Gordon said, "I'll have a double bacon cheese burger with fries please."
"A nice load of fat Gordon. I'll have the special meatloaf please," said Stacy.
After the waitress had taken off, Gordon said, "Well, what can I do for you officer Stacy?"
"I'll not beat around the bush Gordon. You were in Gresham at a rehab clinic. I'm wonder if you knew our homicide victim Glen Wilson. Here's a picture of him. He worked there while you were a patient. Does he look familiar," asked Stacy while she looked him in the eye.
Gordon looked at the picture with not a lot of interest. He twisted it around then said, without looking at Stacy, "I'm not sure. I may have seen him and not remembered seeing such an ugly face. Is he the guy you found in the trash cans down at Perkins store?"
"Yes, with his feet super glued to the wall. We think this homicide victim was blackmailing some patients at the Gresham clinic. Was Glen Wilson blackmailing you Gordon," asked Stacy.
Gordon was now slightly squirming while the waitress saved him by delivering dinner. As he piled on the ketchup, he said with confidence returning, "Why no, he wasn't. Why would he black mail me or others for that matter?"
Stacy said, "He was photographing sexual acts with either participating individuals or taking pictures covertly. In his apartment we found dozens of pictures of mostly men with men performing sexual acts. Now Gordon, we don't know who killed Glen Wilson, but we'd like your DNA to eliminate you from our list of suspects."
She watched him closely even though she forked in the tasteless meatloaf while he mused about the idea of providing DNA. Gordon was no dummy living with a father who was a police officer. He said, "I'll think about it Stacy. I didn't kill the guy, but I guess I don't expect you to believe me. I'm a juicer and druggie, but not a killer."
"Let's hope you are telling the truth Gordon. I'd like to see you clean and sober. Can you tell me where and what you were doing on Wednesday night into Thursday morning the 12th," asked Stacy.
By now he'd wolfed down the burger and was fingering the fries. Stacy had shoved her plate of half finished food away. The waitress came and frowned while taking the plates away. Gordon said, "Me and my friend, Benny Parsons, went to a movie in Coos Bay, then we cruised the bars looking for some girls. We didn't get lucky and came home around 1 am. No, nobody can swear I was home at 1 am. My father was not home. My mother was fast asleep. That's about it Stacy."
"Your friend Benny Parsons, where can I find him and do you have phone number?"
"Yes, I already copied it down for you. Here you go. Now, if there are no more questions, I'll be on my way," Gordon said.
"Just one more question. When will you give me an answer about the DNA?"
"I guess now is as good a time as any. You and your kind would find a way to obtain regardless of my permission. Swab Stacy," Gordon leaned over the table opening his mouth for the cotton swab.
When she finished, with the swab secured in a Ziplock bag, she said, "One more thing Gordon," as he stood up to leave, "What if we find a compromising photo in Glen Wilson's apartment of you?
"That doesn't mean I murdered the dude Stacy," said Gordon as he walked out leaving a happy Stacy with what she'd come for: Gordon Yeast's DNA.
The road from Coquille to Bandon is not a road to daydream on. The road follows the meandering Coquille River to Bandon where it empties into the Pacific Ocean. The trip takes only about a half an hour, but few straight a ways are evident. Stacy was ready for a good night's sleep. But before that she called Rory to update him on the good news receiving voluntarily from Gordon Yeast his DNA.
Rory congratulated her and then said, "It appears our victim was shaking down a lot of current and former patients at Gresham Clinic. Among those we ID was your DNA guy Gordon Yeast. The picture is not flattering at all; but there's no doubt it's him. At this point we have motive and if nobody can verify his whereabouts on the night of the homicide, he has opportunity."
"We're getting somewhere now Rory. I need some sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow," said Stacy.
After they hung up, Rory had secret desires that aren’t for publication at this point.
Portland
Rory, Ben and Stacy took a flight out of North Bend to Portland. A state police van picked them up and drove to the Gresham Clinic. From the airport it was not far to both the clinic and Glen Wilson's apartment. The staff at the clinic was aware of the police coming. Most of the staff was familiar with the police as many patients had records.
Stacy saw a rather drab setting that was slowly being surrounded by strip malls. Gresham was on the highway to Mt. Hood where denizens by the thousands flocked to the mountain and the surrounding camp grounds. In the fall, which was not far away, the drive was lovely viewing the changing leaves.
But now it was back to business. They entered into a sterile reception area where a plus size receptionist stood smiling at them. She said, "Welcome and our director have instructed all of us to fully cooperate. She'll be with you in a minute."
Stacy looked at the ever present plastic chairs and table with ancient issues of various publications. None wanted to sit down. All stood waiting for the director who shortly came out with a flourish. Some might think she had run from an outbuilding to greet the police. "I'm Director Bly. Please call me Sally. Follow me please to my office. Stacy led the way to a nondescript office with four chairs lined up in front of a very messy desk. Sally Bly sat down and let out a big lung full of air.
She said, "You wanted to see our files on an employee named Glen Wilson and a patient named Gordon Yeast. Here are copies for each of you to look at. While you're reading I'll ask Ms. Hodge to bring us some coffee."
Stacy was reading Glen Wilson record of employment and his resume. She wondered if Sally Bly had checked the references or just filled a slot that was open. Sally came back in with a tray of coffee for each including herself. Stacy wasted no time and asked, "Ms. Bly, or Sally, did you ever suspect Glen Wilson of selling drugs and or trading drugs for illicit pictures of pornographic nature?"
"My heavens no I have no knowledge of any of what you're talking about," Sally said rather boisterous.
"Look at this photograph and tell me if you recognize the two men and then room where the picture was taken," asked Stacy.
Sally reached out taking the 8 X 11 picture. She sat it on her desk while putting on her half glasses. She gasped and held her hand to her neck. "My lord, this can't be a picture taken here. Yes, that is Gordon Yeast and one of our current patients, Sam Wakefield. Sam is a former pro football player from the Seattle Seahawks. He's a quiet soft spoken man with a major drug problem namely cocaine. That too was Gordon Yeast's drug of choice."
Rory said, "Sally, please have Sam Wakefield come to a room whereby we can interview him. Let me reiterate that we're investigating a homicide of one of your former employees."
"Let me make a call. Wait a minute please." She spoke rather harshly to the person on the other end telling someone what she wanted; and wanted now!
"We have a conference room down the hall. Please follow me."
They'd no sooner sat down when a knock on the door produced a small mountain of a man, Sam Wakefield. To Stacy he seemed quiet and reserved. Sally showed him where to sit and introduced the investigators from the Oregon State Police Homicide Division. Sam raised an eyebrow and other than that showed no other emotion.
Rory asked, sliding the same picture that Sally viewed across to Sam, "Will you confirm Mr. Wakefield that is you in the picture?"
"Yes, I sure can. What else do you want to know," he asked in a deep voice.
"We're interested in who took the picture and what payment, if any, took place," said Rory.
"Glen the Weasel took the pictures. He supplied the coke. The deal was if Gordon did a good job, he would receive a couple grams plus what was sprinkled on my unit. I got three grams for supplying my rather large unit. Glen would post the pics to the Internet," said Sam.
Stacy didn't learn anything more than what she suspected. Stacy asked, "Mr. Wakefield, did Glen ever try to blackmail you with going public?"
"Yes, he tried, but after a couple of my friends held him down, I gave him one for free up his backside. After that he gave me no trouble."
"Are you aware he was murdered more than a week ago," said Rory.
"I read the papers. It's not a big loss in my book. I'll miss the wiff, but not the source. Others can tell you about the same story. There's a reason we're in here detectives. It's really difficult to rid the monkey on our backs. No I don’t want you to feel sorry for us. We make our own bed and sleep in it."
"Did Glen every mention going somewhere on vacation before he quit here," asked Stacy.
"We'll he did say he was going south on some business and would be back in a few weeks time. He told me that he would find a way to supply at least a few of us who had money," he said.
Back in the van they drove to Glen Wilson's apartment just off east Burnside. The apartment was a long ways from the high rent district. All of the evidence had been removed to the Portland office. However, all three wanted to see where he lived and how he lived. One never knows what might reveal itself. Stacy for one knew this very well. Her training taught her to look for the little things and the obscure or unrelated what might be construed as superfluous. Be that as it may, Stacy was eager to get a 'feel' of Glen Wilson. Once inside the crime tape, Stacy first went to the kitchen.
He might have been sick porno drug dealer, but he was fairly clean about his kitchen. No dirty dishes were evident, but then upon inspection, there were few dishes to be found period. Other than two frozen ice trays, a bottle of almost empty ketchup, some stale bread, the fridge was empty. It was clear that the police who had searched the apartment had done a thorough job. However, she remembers taking a class where the instructor said that the kick board under the counters in the kitchen or in the bathroom was favorite hiding places.
Stacy looked carefully under the kitchen counters, but could see there wasn't any recent disturbance there. She moved to the bathroom. Even though the room smelled like urine, Stacy ignored that fact and squatted down for a look under the sink. She saw where a small flap of linoleum hung down for an easy pull. Stacy pulled and after she removed a piece of plywood, about 3" X 12" she discovered his hiding place. She called for Rory and Ben to come see what she found.
"I've found the lost treasure of Peru Flake," she said while drawing out a large kilo bag of cocaine. "And lookie here what we have," pulling out a Zip lock bag full of pictures. Then with a small Maglite she saw one more Ziplock bag. It was full of hundred dollar bills. Rory gave off a big whistle.
"That money bag would explain the four one hundred dollar bill in his wallet. Also, it would appear he wasn't on a buying run because his stash of money is in his apartment. This complicates the case somewhat," Rory said.
"I agree," said Stacy. "Why would he drive all the way to Bandon to shake down Gordon Yeast? There's more here than meets the eye."
Ben said, "Maybe our vic had a partner and the meeting went wrong somehow. We need to find that van. I thing some answers reside inside his vehicle. Of course it's entirely possible it's not even in the state anymore."
They went to the state police office. An hour later all had combed through the evidence of pics, websites, video all related to pornography. One thing Stacy wondered about was what bank or banks were used to stash the money in. It isn't hard to set up a credit card account at a bank. Well, Stacy thought she'd leave that end of things to the local investigators.
Flying home she was very quiet; Rory noticed. Stacy was mulling over the time spent in Portland. After considerable thinking, Stacy had written down some questions:
1. Found one kilo bag of coke.
2. Found baggie of cash: $35,000.
3. Found porno pics of men with men.
Note: The evidence lends itself to major drug dealing and porno exploitation.
A. Was Glen Wilson working alone?
B. Was he meeting someone in Bandon?
C. Why quit his job?
D. Where is his vehicle?
E. Who took his vehicle?
Stacy felt the wheels hit the runway in North Bend. Rain was streaming down the windows from a late summer storm on the west coast.
It was agreed they would meet the next morning to hash over what had developed from their trip to Portland. Stacy drove home more confused than ever. She had read that Glen Wilson drug screen showed no signs of any drugs. He was clean and sober. The deeper she went the more complex Glen Wilson seemed. It was doubtful he was working alone. But why would someone kill him? He didn't have any large amounts of cash on him, but wait, she thought, maybe he had a wad of stash in his van. She pushed the foot feed down in a bit of hurry to get home and talk to her father.
Back home, clothes changed after a hot shower, she sat down with her father to talk about the case. She told him all the facts of the Portland trip. He just nodded and grunted a couple times. Stacy finished and said, "We think his van or vehicle is germane to the case. I'm thinking he was on his way for a buy of drugs or to sell some porno pictures. What did Paul find out in Langlois?"
"He found a burned out van with the license plates missing. However, we're sure it was the homicide victims vehicle. The numbers matched. We did a fairly close search but the inside revealed nothing of interest. No burned cash, no burned pictures, just a typical vehicle. Sorry Stacy."
"It seems to me that we're just spinning our wheels here. I've no doubt we're missing something. What that something is, well………. I don't know."
"Okay Stacy, let's assume he was here to buy or sell either drugs or pictures. It would seem to me that Bandon is a strange place to do either of those transactions. Now if he were just traveling through, to make a buy or to sell, where on the coast would he do that? There's not much between here and San Francisco. If he was going to California, why wouldn't he take the I-5 freeway? Let's go back to why or possibly why he was here in Bandon. I'd say he was here to meet someone. Who that someone was, is your job. We could speculate all night long and not come up with the answer. However, let's set aside the porn and think about the drugs. You say he had a kilo of cocaine in his house. If there was any drugs in the van, they're long gone by now. Besides, the population here doesn't warrant that volume of cocaine. Let's not forget that some high rollers come to the condos just to the north of us to play golf and party. But once again, those types would have brought it with them rather than order it delivered.
I'll leave you with this thought Stacy. What does Bandon have that would seem workable for a large transaction of drugs?"
Stacy went to bed. Physically she was beat; but mentally the wheels were turning faster than ever. The last time she looked at her bed stand clock, it was just past 1 am. She finally drifted off only to be woken up with the sun streaming through her bedroom window. The rain had passed and what followed showed signs of a lovely fall day coming. She needed to think so she put on her sweats and drove to the jetty. The wind had a bite to it, but her Portland Trailblazer wind breaker was adequate for the job. Amazing there were a few people out and about. Two old timers were jetty fishing with steaming cups of coffee keeping them company. She smiled thinking someday her father would be joining the senior group. A few small boats were inside the bar fishing.
She looked back towards town and saw a larger boat coming towards the bar. She recognized the boat as a charter. Bandon by the Sea was becoming known for charter fishing. It was nice to see the tourist dollars flowing into the small community, she thought, as the boat passed by with hopeful folks smiling and waving. The captain saw who was on the jetty and gave a blast of the horn.
Stacy stared at the charter boat as it crossed the bar heading out to the open ocean. Her brain was on fire, or maybe it was electricity, as a 60 watt light bulb went off in her mind. She turned on her heels and for short legs she took long strides to her car. She needed to see the Coast Guard about some idea she had.
Meanwhile Rory had been trying to call her. Stacy had forgotten to turn her cell on. Besides, if the truth were known, she didn't have time for him right at this moment in time. She hurried into the office where a smiling Coast Guard sailor welcomed her. At this time of year, just after Labor Day the Coast Guard boat moves up to Coos Bay leaving a skeleton crew down in Bandon. If need be, in an emergency the Guard can call in a helicopter for rescue purposes. Labor Day is the last day for the Coast Guard to be in Bandon. With storms approaching it's not advisable to cross the bar at this time of year.
Stacy asked, showing him her police ID, "Have you heard or know about any ocean going crafts coming into the harbor from the south? What I mean is anything that might be suspicious transporting drugs?"
"Not that I'm aware of at this time. Let me contact Coos Bay and see what they have to say. We don't have a lot of sea traffic in or out. Mostly it's just the charter boats and occasionally the sheriff's boat that patrols for fishing infractions. Once in awhile we see a large pleasure yacht come in from California."
Stacy heard every word he said. She asked, "Does the sheriff's boat ever go out across the bar?"
"Yes, we have a record but we understand the sheriff is going out fishing for his own pleasure. We know he pays for his own fuel and never on official duty; or at least that is what he says."
Stacy was inwardly churning with excitement. She asked, "When was the last time the sheriff's boat went out across the bar?"
"Let's see," as he flipped through the daily records, "ah here we go, the boat went out three weeks ago last Friday."
Stacy didn't need to write it down. She thanked the guy and left to go home, change and make contact with Rory and Ben. She was not sure if what she had about Sheriff Yeast was germane to the case, but it was lead to follow up on. It might be stretching the distance, but it could be possible the counties sheriff's boat might have met another craft at sea for a drug shipment? Even to her it sounded a little farfetched. She decided to tuck the information away for the time being. There was plenty of work to do in the meantime.
At the police station Flo told Stacy as she walked in that Rory had been trying to reach her for hours. "Lord girl, that man has it bad. I wish someone had a crush on me like that boy has on you!" she said. Stacy laughed and knocked on the chief's door.
Chief Ray looked up and motioned her in. "He said, "You left the house early. Something on your clever mind officer?"
"If you promise not to laugh, I'll tell you what I've uncovered, but can't prove," she said while sitting down across from him.
The chief popped in a Halls to help ward off a sore throat that he knew was coming. "I quit laughing when your mother passed on Stacy. Go ahead."
Well, it's possible, but kind of far out, but the victim Glen Wilson was a big time drug dealer. From the evidence he was both a dealer in drugs and porn. I think he came down here from Portland to pick up a drop or to pass on some porn to an unknown person or persons. I was at the Coast Guard Station and discovered that besides the charter fishing boats going out across the bar, the sheriff's boat makes an occasional trip out to open water. What if the sheriff's boat was rendezvousing with a shipment of drugs from the south; even as far south as Mexico?"
"My first reaction is that you're reaching, but you can't discount the possibility. A sheriff doesn't make a lot of money; like me too. His cost of rehab for his son is not cheap. Be that as it may, don't neglect what you have going on at this time. I suggest start at the beginning and look at what you know and what you don't know. See if you can find a money trail. I wonder, what they found on the victims computer. If this money trail leads to banks, then the FBI will become involved; especially if it leads to off shore accounts."
"I found the answer to our question: 'what does our town of Bandon have of interest to a drug dealer?' The answer is: a harbor."
The next thing she knew Rory and Ben walked in. Rory was all smiles, but questioned why she didn't answer her phone. She told him she forgot to turn in on early this morning. He said, "How about some breakfast. I'm starving and Ben already ate at home. He wants to do a search on the burned van just to satisfy himself. After he leaves, I'm afoot. I want to interview the sheriff's son Gordon Yeast. Could you or would you call and see if we can see him this lovely morning?"
"Indeed I will. Meanwhile, is there any news on tracing Glen Wilson's bank accounts or credit card trails," asked Stacy.
"Let's talk about across the street where I know they have some ham and eggs waiting for me."
"I'm ready. Let me call first and I'll meet you across the street. I don't want your eggs to get cold. Order me some sourdough toast with strawberry jam please," said Stacy.
Ten minutes later she said down with Rory. His breakfast had almost disappeared. She jammed up her toast and said, with a mouthful, "We can meet him at 10 am here in Bandon. He said he needed to see a friend down here anyway."
"Tell me what you think has transpired before the homicide and all subsequent events until today."
"You don't want much, do you," he said swilling down the last of his coffee. My captain, colleagues from Portland, all think we have something way bigger than just a homicide here in Bandon. First there's the drug issue, then the porno issue, then the trip down here from Portland issue; and last of all the homicide where somebody glued his feet to the wall. Why would anyone do that is beyond me," he said drooling over her toast. She gave him one slice. He smiled as if it was a gift from heaven.
Stacy wiped her mouth and said, "Glen's van was found burned out in the hills east of Langlois. Why? Because of some evidence inside or was someone just pissed off. A ton of coke is found in his apartment along with a ton of cash and a pile of trash pics of guys doing guys. Now, Rory, why was Glen Wilson here in Bandon?"
"If I knew that we'd be half way home. Needless to say, with a kilo bag of cocaine and a pile of cash in his apartment tells us he intended on coming back home. Why did the guy quit his job? It appeared he had a good thing going on. If you can call that a good thing. Okay, the big question is what was he doing at that little store in the middle of the night?"
"And, let's not forget it probably took two guys to assault him," said Stacy.
"Yes, that means we're looking for two killers and not just one," said Rory.
Both sat there thinking. Stacy was thinking who two guys, who must be friends, would meet Glen Wilson at the small store and kill him. Rory was thinking alright, but not about the case. He was gazing at Stacy admiring her almost hidden freckles. He thought that when she was younger she must have had very evident freckles. He'd love to see a picture of her then. He realized she was talking to him and he looked up……….
"Earth to Rory," she said. "You looked like you were a million miles away. I said, "Let's take a drive down to the store and talk to the Perkins girl again."
"Eh….sorry…..okay, where did you want to go," said a confused Rory.
"I said, follow me. We've a little time to kill before Gordon arrives. Pay the bill by the way. You make a lot of money," she said smiling as she walked out the door with him checking her backside out.
"I think we're missing something with the Perkins clan. Remember the boy said they came home around 1:30 to 3:00 am. Let's see if we can shake them up a little bit. I'm going to bluff so just follow my lead. Maybe with the threat of a murder charge, they'll fess up to what I think might have occurred," said Stacy.
"And what might that be," asked Rory as they pulled into the store parking lot.
"I think they found some drugs in the van. The keys were in it and one of the boys drove it down to Langlois and set it afire," said Stacy.
"You mean they looked around and found a body behind the store. Then they stole the van? Well, what have we to lose," said Rory as they pulled behind the store into Stan's place.
"Junior answered the door with sleepy eyes. Working swing shift usually means sleeping till noon. However, his mother saw the police car and woke him up. Junior beckoned with is hand to come in. He flopped into his father's easy chair and pointed at the old sofa for the two of them to sit down.
Stacy said, "Junior, we found the burned out van of the victim. A gas station attendant saw it drive up the hill at around 2 am. Now here's what we think happened: you may have murdered the van driver and discovered inside the van a large cache of cocaine, along with an undetermined amount of money. At the very least we can see you charged with accessory to commit murder and if we can find the drugs, so much the better. Now what have you to say?"
Junior was wide eyed with both hands gripping the arms of the chair. He tried to say, "Ahhhhhhhh……no, no - no…. I, we, have anything to do with stealing his van and we only saw it sitting on the corner of the store with the front door open. Me and Eddie looked behind the store and saw this dude's feet up against the wall. Eddie checked and he was still warm, but dead. We high tailed it out of there. But wait, there was another car not far from the van. We thought that someone ran out of gas or broke down as nobody was around that we could see. I swear we didn't have nothing to do with killing the guy. We drove down the Beach Loop road to see if anyone was following us. Nobody was and we made a full circle and came home around 3 am."
"When you came back was the van still there or gone," asked Rory.
"The parking lot was empty of both cars. We went home and locked the doors; or at least I did," said Junior.
"Continue your work routine and make yourself available if we need you. Don't leave town," Rory said. "I don't suppose you have any idea what kind of car you saw?"
"No, it was very dark and we were scared as hell," Junior said.
"We'd like a DNA sample Junior," said Stacy. "You'd be volunteering it by your own free will."
"I'm game. Take what you need," said Junior.
Deep Sea Fishing
Gordon Yeast was waiting for Stacy at the police station. They found him relaxed and apparently very confident of his non-involvement in the homicide case. Stacy said, "Thanks for coming Gordon. Please follow me to our conference room."
After sitting down, Rory asked, "Gordon, we need to learn more about the drugs and porno operation of Glen the Weasel; as he's known by. Help us out here."
"Well, I'm not bashful. The Weasel had a rate for different methods of sex. The biggest payoff, a 1/4 ounce of wiff, if you agreed to take it up the backside. The smallest was a handjob where each person received a gram. One thing about him he was clever to never have on his person any drugs; only his smart phone. He'd pass the drugs off using a restroom. As he was the janitor, he had access to the paper towel holder and toilet paper."
"Gordon, it seems rather strange and a coincidence that Glen Wilson, your supplier of drugs and actor, should venture so far from Portland to our small town of Bandon. It's even stranger to understand what he was doing at the small store and what happened to cause him to be murdered," said Stacy.
"We don't believe in coincidences, in our line of work," said Rory. "If we take it a step further, The Weasel shows up on your doorstep, so to speak, and finds himself super glued to a wall dead as a door nail."
"We find that very revealing that three hundred miles from Portland he dies in your back yard," said Stacy. "Furthermore, we think you've more to say than you've been telling us. The DNA is not back yet, but you're our prime suspect. Rory is going to read you your rights and take you up to North Bend for further questioning,"
Stacy's cell went off. She saw it was Dr. Stone. She answered and listened. Then she said, "Thanks Dr. Stone. The DNA donor is right here as we speak. You're so good at your job!"
"Well, Gordon, your DNA matched the sperm from the murdered victim's rectal passage. This should seal the deal," said Stacy.
Gordon with eyes bigger than saucers, mouth hanging open, was at a loss for words. He sat there dumb founded. In a croaky voice said, "I did meet him and we got it on, but I never killed the guy."
Rory read him his rights and had just finished when Gordon's father walked in. Sheriff Yeast said, "Say nothing Gordon. Let our lawyer take care of this case. Go along now quietly and make no trouble." He turned to Rory, ignoring Stacy, "I was listening and it must seem he's your prime suspect, but I know my son and he didn't kill anyone."
"Let's let the jury decided; shall we Sheriff Yeast," said Rory.
Stacy felt good. They'd done a better than fair job of investigating a homicide case. However, like the last case, where matching DNA almost sent an innocent man to prison, something was nagging at her. Be that as it may, she watched a shackled Gordon Yeast drive off with Rory smiling from ear to ear.
Sheriff Yeast was talking to Chief Foreham when Stacy walked back in. She walked right up and said, "Excuse me Sheriff Yeast, but I understand you like to go out over the bar deep sea fishing. No, I'm not accusing you of using tax payer money, but as part of this investigation, I'd like to know who went with you, if anybody?"
"What in god's name does fishing have to do with a homicide down at the Perkins store," asked the sheriff.
"Probably nothing, but I'd still like to know who went with you fishing a week ago Friday. The Coast Guard confirms you went over the bar in the counties boat."
"I usually just go by myself. I need the quiet time away from my taxing job. What with budget cuts, our staff is bare bones. I have to cover some shifts myself on occasion," he said.
''Thanks sheriff, you've been a big help. By the way, did you catch anything," she asked.
"Let's see now," as he looked at the ceiling scratching his chine, "if I recall, a large link cod is what I brought home. Would you like to go with me sometime officer Foreham," he asked with the devil in his eye.
"I'm afraid I get motion sickness in the worst way,'' said Stacy thinking he'd probably throw me overboard.
The Beat Goes On
For the next couple days, Stacy revisited the crime scene and the Old Town Dock. At the dock she wanted to know more about Sheriff Yeast fishing trips. She had a record of his excursions across the bar. She didn't think the dates he went fishing had much to do with any special times of the year.
Down at the dock, the weekend before Labor Day, Stacy was chatting with some old timers who sat on the benches while the charter boats came and went. It might be true the old timers had a bit of a short term memory problem, but when the county sheriff went by in the boat all the heads would turn.
Stacy found what she was looking for: two old men with wool blankets over their legs to ward off the cool on shore wind. Unfortunately, she didn't recognize either one of them, but come to find out, both knew who she was.
Stacy asked, "Excuse me gentlemen, but could I ask you guys a few questions about fishing and the boats coming and going?"
"Sure you can. I'm Rex Endwith and my friend here, who's a little hard of hearing, is Felix Bounder. We know who you are officer Foreham, or may I call you Stacy. Both Felix and I have followed your career ever since you went off to the university. We also read with keen interest the homicide at the golf course and your involvement. Now we've been following the Perkin's store murder. What would you like to ask us," said Rex.
"I'm happy to meet you. I'm wondering if you guys were here about a little over a week past when the sheriff's boat went out."
"We're most every day during the summer time. We can tell you about when a boat goes out or comes back in, but the date is beyond our capability. In answer to your question, Yes, we saw it go out and come back in. It went out morning and came back after lunch. He docks the boat where the locals do." He pointed to the east where the docks for parking or docking was about 300 yards away. Rex continued, after reaching inside his heavy coat for a pair of binoculars, "I saw the sheriff walk to his car carrying an ice chest. It must have been fairly heavy as his back was bent. He always has that ice chest with him and he never cleans his catch here where the charter boats dock."
"Thanks for the information Rex and Felix. Now have you ever seen a pleasure craft come into the harbor this summer. Like maybe from down south or from even further south to Mexico," she asked
"Nope, nothing but fishing boats come in here. What else can we help you with," Rex asked.
"That's about all guys. I appreciate it more than you know. Keep reading the papers," she said while shaking their arthritic hands that were ice cold.
Stacy walked alongside the waterfront to the east where the private boats were moored. She wasn't looking for anything in particular, but wanted to think about what the two old gentlemen had to say. Sure Rex did the talking, but Felix was nodding his head most of the time. Alice Grimes was preparing for a trip out in her charter boat as Stacy passed by.
Alice looked up, wiped her brow and said, "Hi Stacy, what you doing down here today?" Obviously Alice was 'fishing' on the dock for some gossip to pass onto her clients. However, she was a nice person so Stacy answered:
"I was talking to those two old gents about the sheriff going out over the bar fishing alone. I'm not sure that is a good idea, but what do you think Alice?"
"He told me he likes to be alone sometimes. His boat has the latest in communication gear and even three miles out we have cell phone coverage. But, what is a little strange Stacy is he never cleans his fish on the dock. He told me he cleans them out at sea, but that's not an easy thing to do. He seems to struggle with the weight of the ice chest and whenever someone offers to help, he shrugs them off. I'm not voting for him next time. He's not friendly at all these days."
"What does he usually catch," asked Stacy.
"He says he likes to bottom fish for ling cod. He likes the deep fried cod taste he says."
"How's business, by the way," said Stacy.
"Good. Real good. We're booked full up through Labor Day. After that we'll move up the coast to our winter home in Newport. I got to go Stacy. Nice chatting," as she waved bye bye.
Rory called and asked if she wanted in on the interview with Gordon's lawyer present. She told him of course and when should she be there. He told 2 pm and told her to hurry up and come for lunch. She laughed and said she was on her way.
A Change of Tune
Sub sandwiches were lunch at the North Bend State Police Office. Instead of the interview in the county jail in Coquille, the lawyer agreed to North Bend. What they didn't want is any interference from his father the sheriff. No home field advantage is what they were saying.
After lunch they chatted about the case. Ben asked, "Stacy, you got something gnawing on your mind about this case. Share it with us. You've proved before that your vision is wide like a wide angle lens on a camera."
Rory said, "Now Stacy, we have a strong case here and are you going to tell us we got the wrong guy again?"
"No, I'm not saying that at all. I think there's more to this case than meets the eye. I seriously doubt Gordon Yeast worked alone. At the best we can do is charge him with an accessory. I suspect that a bigger player in this drug game is responsible for the homicide of Glen Wilson."
Rory had learned his lesson the hard way last time. Instead of making a fool of himself, he asked, "Do you have a suspect in mind?"
"I do, but can't come close to proving it. We need his accomplice to implicate him. That accomplice is Gordon Yeast. I think he knows who killed Glen Wilson. Now whether or not he'll give him up is another story. Let's see how the interrogation plays out," said Stacy.
At a few minutes before 2 pm Gordon and his lawyer, Don Dinky, walked in like they were just coming back from a luncheon meeting with martini's the main menu. However, once Gordon saw the somber faces on his interrogators, he withdrew into himself. It was clear he realized he was up a creek without the proverbial paddle.
A sheriff's deputy took off his cuffs and they sat down in the one and only interrogation room. Attorney Don Dinky said, "My client wishes to cooperate the best he can. However he'll say nothing to incriminate himself any further than already exists. He wants to make a statement for the record. After that let's see what questions he can answer and what questions he won't answer."
With a recorder on a formal statement by Gordon Yeast was officially taken: "For the record, I didn't kill Glen Wilson. Yes, we had anal sex, but it wasn't rape, it was consensual. I met him at the Perkins store around 1 am. He promised me an ounce of coke if I would perform anal sex and give him a blow job. I agreed. I was driving my mother's car and we did the deed in the back of his van. I was in the act of sucking him off when the van door slid open. A light was shinning in my eyes. A muffled voice told me to get the hell out of there and I did. I drove off towards Bandon. When I left Gordon Wilson he was very much alive. End of my statement."
Rory asked, "Did you recognize the voice?"
"No. I think he had a handkerchief over his mouth," said Gordon.
"Did you see a car besides your own anywhere," asked Ben.
"No I didn't. I was scared to death. I ran for my car and peeled out for home."
Rory looked at Stacy and she nodded. "Gordon, this is what I think happened. Another person that perhaps you know well was going to meet Glen Wilson for a drug transaction. The sex part was scheduled earlier before the meeting time of the other person. That part of the meeting had nothing to do with drugs; other than your payment for services rendered. Now, having said that, do you want to save your butt from the gallows by giving up the real killer?"
All three investigators were watching Gordon closely. He was squirming and obviously agitated. But he kept his mouth shut. He shook his head. The lawyer said, "Anymore questions detectives?"
"When did you first meet Glen Wilson Gordon," asked Stacy.
"I met him the first time I entered the clinic back in January of this year. I really got to know him after the second time around. I got out July 31st."
"Did you ever tell your father stories of your activities while in drug rehab," asked Stacy. The lawyer shook his head to not answer that question.
"Okay, Gordon. I understand you will be arraigned very soon. You're going away for a very long time. We also know you have an accomplice that helped you superglue the victim and to take the van to Langlois. We've a warrant out for your friend, Benny Parsons. Let's see what he has to say about that night," said Rory.
"He doesn't know anything," Gordon blurted out. He's just a friend."
"Well Gordon, friends tell friends things. Let's see what he's be told by you," said Rory.
A Gay Morning
Benny Parsons lived near the Coquille County Court House. It was just a short walk to visit his friend in jail. It was decided that Rory would do the interview with Ben. Some intimidation was needed to loosen his tongue. Benny had agreed on a 9 am meeting the following day of Gordon's official statement.
Benny opened the door of his parent's house for Rory and Ben to come in. Both his parents worked so they were gone. The house was typical of places built during the war years. It was small, but neat and clean. An old davenport sat under the front window decorated with white doilies. Benny sat in his father's rocking chair. Rory saw a pimple faced young man who seemingly lacked any outgoing personality. Physically he was thin and over six feet tall. Rory asked, "Benny, tell us about the Friday night you were with Gordon down in Bandon when he met Glen Wilson."
"Am I under arrest," asked a squeaky voice.
"No not yet. If you're honest and tell us the truth of that night that you didn't have anything to do with Glen Wilson's demise, then no harm no foul," said Rory.
"Alright. I found out we were to meet a guy south of Bandon for a drug buy. I told Gordon his father would have a heart attack if he knew we were buying drugs. Besides, I said, we've no money. He told me not to worry about the cash side as he was going to do a little horse trading. We left Coos Bay around midnight. When we arrived at the Perkins store a dark colored van was sitting there. Gordon told me to wait here that he would be gone for a half hour or so. Our car was pointed towards Bandon and the van was behind me. I did adjust the rear view mirror, but it was so dark I couldn't see anything.
I was getting nervous and a little scared. There was no traffic to speak of coming or going. About twenty minutes had gone by when first I saw headlights coming from the south and then they went out. I thought shit, we've been had. After that, I saw a bobbing flash light shinning inside the van. The next thing I knew was Gordon was back in our car and we left in a hurry. He wouldn't tell me nothing. All he did was swear at the person with the flashlight."
"Did it appear to you Benny that Gordon knew who held the flashlight," asked Ben.
"Yes, I think so. But who it was, I've not a clue. He clammed up all the way home. I didn't hear from him for a day or two."
"Thanks Benny. Don’t leave town. We might have some further questions as time goes on," said Rory.
The two state police detectives drove down to Bandon. Both felt a little dejected, but Benny Parsons's statements were clearly helpful. Ben said, "It's my thinking that from what we have gleaned is there's no doubt that Gordon knows who the 'Flashlight' man is."
"I agree with you and Stacy knows who it is --- or at least has a strong suspicion about who it might be."
It was getting on to late in the afternoon or early evening as they entered Bandon. It was hard to tell whether it was clouds or fog moving in as dusk slowly took command of the day. Stacy had been hanging around the station house waiting for the report from Rory and Ben. When they drove in, she saw they out the window. She'd decided it was snack time so she had her coat on preparing against a cold evening. Rory waited seeing her with a coat on thinking she was in need of some substance. They scurried across the highway to the restaurant. A few early evening seniors were having dinner.
They sat down at a table with a view of the highway. It was fairly busy as what few commuters were evident; it seemed a little busy for the small town.
"Well, I'm waiting for your report," said a snarly Stacy. It was out of character for her and both Rory and Ben were a little shocked. "Sorry guys, my mind is at warp 9 and Scotty really needs to beam me up."
Both guys laughed as they recognized the Star Trek analogy. "Benny confirms that someone opened the van door and made Gordon exit in a hurry. He told us that Gordon was mad as hell and drove home not saying much but swearing at the loss of drugs. He thinks Gordon knows who the 'Flashlight' man is. Now we think you have a strong suspicion about who it might be also," said Rory.
"But how to prove it is what's got me flustered. Yes, I think it's Sheriff Yeast who opened the van up and I think it's the sheriff who killed Glen Wilson," said Stacy.
"Take it a step further," said Ben.
"The porno aside; drugs only. I think Glen Wilson and Sheriff Yeast were in the drug business big time. Sheriff Yeast would go out fishing and meet a boat from down south with cocaine. The sheriff would pack it off his boat in an ice chest. Glen Wilson would drive down from Portland and pick it up. What happened, I think, is the sheriff arrived early, caught his son doing acts against his beliefs. He was so pissed off he killed the guy. The only problem I have guys is the fact of the van itself. How did the sheriff drive the van down to Langlois and get back to his car at the store?"
"There's a side road not far south of the Loop Road. He could have parked his car there and drove the van down to Langlois. You know how thick law enforcement people are. He might have called a deputy from Curry County to give him a lift back up Highway 101. He arrives just as we arrive at the store around 9 am," said Ben.
"Or he may have caught a ride from a local going to work early that morning," said Rory. "Be that as it may, I like the Sheriff for the homicide."
Myrtle Wood Monkey Wrench
The next day, early morning, Stacy sat with her father and discussed the case with a good listener. The only thing out of the ordinary was the chief making notes on his legal pad. After Stacy had finished with her latest information about the sheriff and his participation in the case, he sat back with keen ears. A few moments of silence occurred and then he said, "Nothing in a homicide case is unbelievable, but having known Sheriff Yeast for most of his life, drugs maybe, but murder… I'm not so sure. You'll need some solid evidence to prove his involvement."
Girl Friday Flo rapped on the door saying, "Excuse me, but Ed Goodright is on the phone insisting he talk to Stacy. He's the owner of Ed's Myrtle Wood Factory down the road a few miles."
Stacy jumped up and went to her office to take the call. She knew better than to waste the chief's time by using his phone. She said, "This is Officer Foreham speaking. How can I help you?"
"We were alerted to report any one hundred dollar bills that were unused to the police. I received a brand new hundred dollar bill from a customer just a few minutes ago. What would you like me to do?"
"Hang onto it Mr. Goodright. I'll be there in 20 minutes," said Stacy. She hung up, grabbed her windbreaker coat, stopped by the chief's office to inform him what and where she was going. He waved and smiled for the first time in a long while.
South of Bandon, past the Beach Loop Road where the Perkins store is located, is a string of myrtle wood places where tourists can buy readymade products out of the famous wood. Ed's Myrtle Wood Factory was the oldest in the business. He and his wife, plus two sons, made a good living selling their products. Stacy had never been there, but knew where the factory was. She pulled off the road a little distance so as customers could park in front.
The door jingled announcing her arrival. The bells above the door were rather quaint, she thought. Ed was standing behind the counter smiling at her. Then it dawned on her that she remembered who he was. He was a good friend of her father's. That's why he smiled. She walked through shelves of wood products from small pieces to large lamps.
Ed said, "Hello Stacy. My wife and I have followed your career since high school. If your mother were alive she would be very proud of you; as we are. Now, here is the hundred dollar bill I received from Stan Perkins this morning."
Stacy almost fell over backwards with the news that it was Stan Perkins who had passed the hundred dollar bill. She held the bill by the extreme corner looking hard at the serial numbers. She couldn't confirm that this bill was part of the same batch that was found in Glen Wilson's wallet. However, if it was tied into the cash found, both in his wallet and in Portland, then a new twist had occurred in the case. She asked, "Mr. Goodright, has Stan Perkins ever purchased items before with a hundred dollar bill?"
"One time he had a fifty dollar bill, but most of the time he buys wood using twenty dollar bills. This was first for him. As you can see, I never touched and it's right where he put it. We're real fan favorites of all the CSI shows. I hope this helps you find the murderer."
"I hope so too. It's a link that has been missing, if I'm not mistaken. Please keep this under your hat for awhile."
"The wife and I know how to keep our mouths shut. This is a small town and we are out in the rural area. You can count on us Stacy."
On the way back to town, Stacy called Rory. She gave him the serial numbers and he said he'd call her right back. As she passed the little store, she decided to get a drink and a snack. Dee was on duty with her cell stuck to her ear as usual.
Stacy found some stale trail mix and a fruit drink. As she paid she asked, "Dee do you know if your uncle Stan is around today?"
"Maybe he's home as I saw him come back from down south. He was probably buying more wood for his lamps. I can call him if you want me to?"
"No that alright. I'll catch him later. It's not that important. Catch you later Dee," said Stacy.
Just as she pulled into the police station, her cell buzzed. She saw it was Rory and said, "Did we strike gold Rory?"
"Not sure what that means, but if you want to know if the numbers you gave me might be part of the stash Glen had, well---------yes it fits. Now what's the story behind it?"
She gave him a quick rundown and told him Stan Perkins was probably at home right now. "Rory, I think you and Ben need to come to Bandon soonest you can."
She went inside the station to see the chief. He waved her in. After she sat down she said, "I think we have part of the case solved by with this discovery of a hundred dollar bill that matches the victims number series, throws a whole new meaning to a big twist in our theory."
"If you recall, I said to be cognizant of the Perkins family and their below the surface dealings. Stan Perkins is in line to take over after his daddy passes on. Amos is way slow and a follower, not a leader. The son Eddie is a quiet sneaky guy. But Sam is quite capable of committing any type of crime. We've his prints on file, by the way. If for example, you can find his prints and the victim's prints on the same bill, well, let's see what happens. Of course officer where there's one new crisp hundred dollar bill, there's got to be more. Well, I've got to go see the mayor about providing some over time for Labor Day coming.
Just after the chief left, in walked Rory and Ben. Rory looked like he'd just stepped out of a high fashion mag. Stacy could swear he smelled like Old Spice as usual. On the one hand she felt a little sorry she couldn't reciprocate the feelings he had for her, but on the other hand, he, if he was serious, best wait until she was ready.
As regular as clock work, he was hungry for breakfast. Both Stacy and Ben put up with his hollow leg. After sitting down and orders placed, she said, "The hundred dollar bill came from Stan Perkins from a myrtle wood dealer down south a few miles past his store. Here's my thinking, we go out with a warrant to search. If we don't have a search warrant, by the time we get one the stash will have disappeared. The question is: Where did he get the hundred dollar bill?"
"Let's ask him, shall we. As soon as I finish my omelet let's go. We can't get a search warrant without some probable cause and or evidence. He could have found it lying in the parking lot." Rory looked up at Stacy and her stack of toast with drool running down his chin. She gave him half a slice.
Ben said, "What does this guy do with the myrtle wood Stacy?"
He makes lamps and other tourist things and puts them on consignment up and down the coast. I've seen some of his work and the lamps are nice. We've our cranberry festival soon. Lots of locals and tourist will flock here after Labor Day. His specialty is the placement of agates so when the light shines they reflect various colors," she said as they left the tab with Rory and walked out.
A knock on the door produced Bessie. She seemed wide awake and full of energy, Stacy thought. Rory asked for Stan and Bessie said he was out in his workshop behind the house. "I'll take you there as the dogs will raise hell if I'm not with you."
They walked through the empty kitchen, which was fairly clean, in Stacy's opinion. A gravel trail ran to the workshop a short stone's throw away from the house. The door was open, but the inside of the messy shop was a bit chilly. Bessie said, "Dad, you've guests to see you."
He turned and saw the three police officers. He gave off a big sigh and laid his tool down. "What is it now? I'm busy getting ready for the festival so make it snappy," he said with a growl.
Stacy held up the baggie that held the hundred dollar bill as Rory asked, "Where did you get this crisp hundred dollar bill Stan?"
"I found it on the side of my store while I was cleaning up after your people made a big mess. I thought it was a just payment for the inconvenience of having someone murdered at my store."
"I'm not sure that is the truth Mr. Perkins. You see that bill matches the serial numbers from a stack of hundred dollar bills that were in the possession of the murder victim. Here's what we think: you found a bag or container of hundred dollar bills in the victims van. You took the money and ran home. What do you have to say about that Mr. Perkins?"
Stacy saw him squirm a little and then he regained his composure saying, "No way I took any money. I'll not answer anymore questions without my lawyer," said Stan.
"You leave us no choice but to obtain a search warrant," said Rory.
On the way out, down the side of the house, past the barking dogs, Stacy looked at Bessie and saw her wink at her. Something was on her young mind. No use pushing it now, Stacy thought, as they drove back to Bandon. If what she thought that was on Bessie's mind, in fact could open the case to expose the complex case of who killed Glen Wilson. Not only that, but where was the money and where were the drugs; if any. One thing for certain, they were getting closer and closer.
"Rory said, I'll talk to the legal folks to see if we have enough cause to obtain a search warrant. Let's see what happens. If we can get it this afternoon, perhaps we can surprise Mr. Perkins."
They dropped Stacy off at the police station. She hurried into the station to brief the chief on what happened. He still wasn't back from visiting the mayor so she went to her office to think. While sitting there, she reread the reports from time of discovery until today. After an hour study, she sat back and said to herself, 'Every time I think I have it figured out, something pops up to put a wrench into the theory'
Her chief came in and rapped his knuckles against the side of the door waking her up from deep thought. He said, ''The mayor was too cheap to buy me lunch, so what say you and I drive over near the golf course for lunch."
After they ordered a simple lunch and talked about bits and pieces of various sundry things, the chief asked, "Stacy, tell me about Stan Perkins interview."
"He said he found the bill next to the store while he was cleaning up after we left. He completely denied having anything to do with taking any money or drugs out of Glen Wilson's van. We told him about a search warrant and he said see my lawyer. We left, but get this……his daughter, Bessie winked at me. She has something she's holding back on."
"Stan Perkins is rotten to the core. I think he got lucky when he spotted the van sitting in his parking lot. If that is the case, then he might have taken a package of money, and stashed in somewhere on his property. In his small mind, spending one of the bills would not be noticed. Indeed yes, many people use hundred dollar bills as the value of money is not what it used to be. In the old days, a twenty dollar bill was big money. Now it's like a dollar bill compared to back then. I know I'm showing my age, but I was just out of my thirties when I saw my first hundred dollar bill.
For a guy like Stan, or any of his clan, a stack or wad of hundred dollar bills is like winning the lotto. That money is burning a hole in his pocket. Keep on it and remember, nothing about them will surprise me. Be prepared for the worst. He's violent and unpredictable. Be alert."
On the way back to the station, they went south past the golf course and up the hill to Highway 101. At that T and across the highway, sat the Perkins Store. Ray Foreham wondered at that moment, what would the store look like in a year's time.
Buried Treasure
Rory showed up with the warrant and the cavalry. Stacy gave him a nod saying good thinking about the back up. This warrant delivery was not a game, but dead serious police work. All had on bullet proof vests along being well armed. There were three police vehicles in tandem as they drove down 101 to the Perkins places. Stacy thought maybe by now Slim Perkins was calling the shots. If history was correct, then his sons reported to him everything. It could be construed that Slim was an accessory after the fact. Be that as it may, they stopped at Stan's house. It was just 5 pm and plenty of light left in the day when they walked up to the front door very alert.
Bessie answered the door with a smirk on her 16 year old face. Rory asked, "Is your father at home Bessie?"
"Yes, he's still out back working on his dumb lamps," she said. They followed her and Stacy wondered where the wife Francis was. Exiting the kitchen door, the dogs took up their normal offensive barking alerting anyone nearby that company was coming. Like before Bessie said, "Dad there're back with a paper in the tall one's hand."
Stan turned and said, "My lawyer is on his way. Meanwhile let me see that search warrant." He glanced at it and said, "Well help yourselves. In the interim, I'll be right here working."
The police went to work. Stacy realized that it might take days to look at each and every place with its many outbuildings. Not to mention the surrounding area where after many decades, hiding places were cleverly built. Stacy went out the door wishing Bessie would follow her. Her luck held as Bessie was right behind her. She quieted the dogs down then whispered in Stacy's ear: "I know where he hides valuable stuff.
Stacy whispered back: "But is it on his or your property and not property owned by a relative?"
"No, it's on our property, but cleverly disguised," she said with scorn in her voice. "I hate the bastard. I'll show you right in front of him," she said again with venom dripping off her tongue. Stacy was a little shocked, but hid it well.
Stacy passed the word to Rory and Rory had all the guys form up inside the workshop where Stan was still putting together his custom built lamps.
With a nod from Rory, Stacy said, "Mr. Perkins listen to me." He turned and looked at her. "We know you have a secret hiding place. It's nice to have an informant to fight crime."
"I don't know what you're talking about. I told you go search and now you're back here saying to me that someone talked to you?"
Bessie stepped out from behind the police and said, "You rotten bastard. I hope you rot in jail." She was shaking and her fists were clinched. Tears started streaming down her cheeks as she continued, "I'm tell all that want to hear that my father has been doing me since I was ten years old. I've had enough. I've saved a little money and am leaving this rotten place."
Then she turned to Stacy and said, "Come with me I'll show you where he hid the cash. I saw the bag full of money only he never saw me see him."
In a flash a drawer opened and he had a pistol in his hand. Stacy pulled Bessie behind her as Ben got off the first shot catching Stan in the gun arm shoulder. Rory yelled for all to not kill him, but cuff him.
A man in a suit came through the door. Stacy knew it was Stan's lawyer. Stacy went to Stan and looked at his shoulder wound. He'd live, but the collar bone was broken. She whispered to him, "They're holding a reservation for you in Salem dick head."
Strange but True
From his hospital bed in Coos Bay, Stan Perkins bragged about his almost perfect find and murder. This is his story and we have to accept it as what really happened that night at the Perkins Store.
"I was coming in from my workshop when I saw some headlights over by the store. I grabbed my flashlight and took the back trail to the store. I saw the sheriff's boy get out of the sheriff's car and walk to the van. I could also see a person left in the car. I waited for a few minutes to see what was happening. Then I heard some groaning and moaning. I knew someone was getting laid, but I never realized it was Gordon the sheriffs kid and some other guy. By now I was next to the van waiting for the moaning to stop.
When it did, I quickly opened the door and shinned the light into Gordon's face. I held my handkerchief over my mouth and told him to get the fuck out of here. He ran like hell. The other guy was pulling his pants up and I told him to stop or I'd shoot his balls off. I made him take all of his clothes off and with the back of the flashlight walked him behind the store. I asked him what he had in the van. He begged me not to hurt him to take the money and let him live.
I asked how much he had. He told me about $40,000 dollars. I about shit my pants. I still had my superglue in my pocket. I use the glue to set my agates into my lamps. In two minutes I'd glued his eyes shut and ears. Then I ran to the van. I found the bag of money and ran back to the back of the store. I asked him what Gordon did to him and he told me. I said you both are gay fuckers huh? He told me yes. I said okay, let's try this action. I super glued his dick hole and after it set up made him jack off. I laughed like hell. He was making too much noise so I glued his mouth shut. Then I glued his nose shut. In a few minutes he was dead. I shoved him head first into the trash can. The legs were a problem so I had to glue them to the back wall.
Now believe this or not. I walked back around the store and the van was gone. I've no idea what happened to it. That's the end of my story. I'll get off with second degree murder and be out in ten years or so."
Spilt Beans
An almost forgotten Gordon Yeast had a visitor. His friend Benny Parsons was chatting away with him in the county jail. Benny could see he was carrying a heavy load upon his sagging shoulders. Gordon looked at his friend and said, "I'm going to give my dad up Benny. I can't carry all this weight around the rest of my life. I know I'll do jail time, but at least I can live with myself."
"I'm with you all the way Gordy. Let me call your lawyer and let's get this over with. In a few years we can find another location to begin life over again."
An hour later, lawyer and prosecutor present, Gordon Yeast made his statement. He said, "My father wanted to know where I was getting my drugs. I told him about a guy in Portland named Glen the Weasel Wilson. The next thing I knew my father and Glen were in business together. They made arrangements for the coke to be shipped up to Bandon just off the bar. From there, father would transport it to Portland.
The night I met Glen, after we had our fun, father was supposed to arrive with the coke. However, unknown to me, which I thought the man with the flashlight was my father, I was told to get the hell out of there. I didn't kill Glen and had nothing to do with the buying or selling of drugs. That was between my father and Glen."
The prosecuter asked, "If there was no one to give the drugs to, what happened to the drugs after Glen Wilson was killed."
"I guess my father still has a couple kilos of coke somewhere," said Gordon.
Any sheriff worth his salt, after almost 30 years in office, has his informers. Sheriff Yeast was among those privileged to have sources. While his son was spilling the beans upstairs to lawyers, he was just hanging up the phone with his Coos Bay source telling him of Stan Perkins confession of murder.
Also, from upstairs came another call from a deputy that his son was incriminating his father in the drug trade to the prosecutor. The deputy hung up saying how sorry he was. Sheriff Yeast put down the phone and took up pen and legal pad. Ten minutes later he sat the pen down and took up his gun that was his father's before him. Outside his office, his secretary of 20 years jumped out of her skin when she heard the loud boom of a gun going off in her boss's office.
The contents of the legal pad said:
"To whom it may concern and certainly not to my worthless son. I don't claim my son who is a homosexual and drug addict. He's been a blot on my career and my life; not to mention my good name.
Foolishly I thought he could be rehabilitated and I spent thousands to that end. Then like the weak human I am, I saw an easy way out of spending money with the simple idea of being a go-between. All I had to do was pick up the drugs offshore, pay the money to the supplier, drive to a city somewhere on I-5 and give it to Glen Wilson. Wilson would provide the money and that was that. I made $5000 a kilo.
Nothing is forever and I for one realize that. My wife of many years lives in a paid for house. My pension will be enough for her. I hope God forgives me.
Sheriff Clinton Yeast
So ends the second Novella with Stacy Foreham.
The setting is factual geography. Of course the people are figments of my imagination. Murder is very rare in Bandon. I hope the citizens of Bandon forgive me for displaying fictional violence.
My grandparents moved to Bandon and located on the Beach Loop Road before 1920. I lived there for ten years before moving to Coquille.
The 'store' is where when I was a boy I sold return bottles for a few pennies. With that money I bought fishing gear. For a beer bottle we received one penny, a pop bottle two pennies. After a weekend the Beach Loop Road had lots of bottles from picnic folks.
Send me your comments: rcw068@outlook.com
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Murder at the Belfry
Stacy Foreham Mystery
RCW
2013
-One-
For Otis Longger it was the same ritual every Sunday morning at 10 am. He'd been doing this job, or privilege, as some would say, for thirty years: to ring the bell in the belfry at the First Christ Church of Bandon, Oregon. A major change was about to occur that fateful winter day for him and all concerned when the bell wouldn't ring.
Otis put on his hat and coat. It was raining cats and dogs, but his umbrella was in the car. Never mind, he thought, as he braved the rush of wind and rain running to his car. This weather wasn't unusual for the southern coast of Oregon at this time of year. To be honest, watching a storm pound the Pacific coast was one of the favorite pastimes of the locals.
It was only a five minute drive from his house to the church. Bandon was a small town with little to offer the 3,000 or so residents. Like a lot of the residents, Otis worked in the cranberry business, which was a major factor to the meager economy of the area. Fishing, wood working and tourism were the other major parts of the economy for Bandon-by-the-Sea.
Otis pulled into the gravel parking lot of the church. It sat on the hill overlooking the Old Town of Bandon and a view of ocean and jetty that allowed boats to enter the Coquille River. He parked on the lee side of the church, almost to the edge of the parking lot under a group of windswept pine trees. As a low level volunteer, Otis left the in-front parking to the principals of the church. He didn't mind one little bit his role in society. Otis was fairly happy with his wife and two kids. The kids were about grown up and soon would be gone. One girl was commuting to SWOC, a community college up in Coos Bay and the other boy was beginning his career in the cranberry industry.
Otis took out his keys and unlocked the side door. His first job was to turn on some heat to take the damp chill out of the air. Next he would turn on a few lights, not too many as the cost of electricity had been increasing as the news reported. Otis went to the office area where Pastor Arnold Westerfield hung his white collar. He turned on the electric space heater and closed the door. He went back to the main part of the church to do a walk around seeing all was in order. Seeing all was just fine and dandy, he went to the Sunday school room to turn on a special oil heater for the little kids.
Back in Sanctuary Otis looked around at the special place to worship God and his laws. The church was not new by any means. It was rebuilt after the Bandon fire of 1936 when the entire town was razed by a rampant fire roaring through the gorse. Like most communities affected by disaster, the town was rebuilt. The original part of town was not large enough for expansion as the years went by. The New Town spread to the south on top of the hill. The Old Town today has mostly small shops ,where tourists can browse for various beach items, such as shells, agates and driftwood. Also a smattering of restaurants will temp your palate. At the dock area a charter boat fishing enterprise for anglers to cross the bar for some deeps sea fishing.
Otis looked at his watch; he knew it was almost time to ring the church bell signifying time for worship beginning at 10:30. As he moved to the small area to pull the rope, he heard the back door open and close signifying that Pastor Arnold had arrived.
Otis reached up with his right hand on top with his left under his right hand and gave it a pull. He fully expected to hear the 'bong' of the bell, but no sound was heard. He tried again and still nothing. Otis was now very puzzled. Had someone played a joke and did something to the rope and bell? He peered up into the blackness of the small area where the rope dangled from the bell. He couldn't see anything except a faint glow of light coming through the slats of the bell tower. While he looked hard up the rope, Pastor Arnold came in to see why the bell wasn't ringing.
"Otis, it's a late. Please ring the bell," said Pastor Arnold.
"I tried Pastor, but when I pull nothing happens. It feels strange too," said Otis.
"I've a powerful flashlight in my desk, side drawer. Run get it Otis while I look around."
Otis did as instructed and was back in a short minute or so. He handed the light to Pastor Arnold. He turned it on and pointed it up the rope. "Lord have mercy Otis, I see two feet dangling in the air. I've a bad feeling about this turn of events. I think whoever it is has passed to the other side Otis. Do you have a cell phone," asked Pastor Arnold. Otis shook his head. He gave the flash light to Otis and hurried to his office to call the police.
Otis look up at the bottom of the shoes knowing that from the shoes up a person was hanging from the belfry. If it was, and he was sure it indeed was a dead person, this would be his first outside the funeral home or church with an open casket showing the deceased. A cold breeze swept around him making him shudder as if a ghost walked across his grave.
[~~~]
Stacy Foreham, Bandon policewoman, sat at her desk looking at the clock wondering why the church bell wasn't ringing at 10 am. She was born and raised in Bandon and couldn't remember the bell of the First Christ Church not ringing on a Sunday morning. Be that as it may, she played with her iPod as she had weekend duty at the police station. Her father was the chief, but that didn't mean much in his book that she was his daughter. He'd been the Chief of Police since she could remember. No, he didn't push her to become active in law enforcement, but she naturally took to it. After high school, she went to the University of Chicago and majored in criminology. Instead of leaping into the big leagues, such as the FBI or another government agency, she decided to spend her first couple years learning from her father in her town. Besides, it was just her and Raymond left after her mother passed on with a terminal illness.
She was checking her recent e-mail when the phone rang. Usually Flo Medders answered the phone and was the dispatcher, but it was Sunday when not much happened around town. Dan Swollen was on duty patrolling the small community incases a policeman was needed.
"Bandon Police Station," she answered the call.
"I'm Pastor Arnold Westerfield of the First Christ Church officer. We've a situation that requires your presence. If I'm not mistaken, we've a body hanging from the bell rope in our church."
Stacy's feet hit the floor. She grabbed her pencil and notepad to make a note of the date and time. She said, "We'll have someone there in a few minutes. Don’t let anyone near the area Pastor. Keep everyone away from the parking area too if you can. I'll be there soon, but a patrol car is on its way."
Stacy called Dan on the radio telling him of a possible homicide at the First Christ Church. Then she tried calling her father who was probably just leaving for church himself; but a different denomination. After that she called Flo to have her man the station due to the emergency. Flo was always agreeable and that was the case this time as well.
Stacy left the door unlocked and drove her car to the church. As she buckled up she speed dialed Rory Caltex, detective for the Oregon State Police located in North Bend, next door to Coos Bay. He answered saying, "Good morning Stacy. I suppose you're bored with weekend duty huh?"
"Quite the contrary Rory. I think we've a homicide at a church. I'm on the way now and will call you back when I know more."
"Well there goes another God's day shot to blazes. I'm on the way regardless. If nothing else we can watch the rain come down. See you soon," said Rory.
Stacy flashed back to the first time they'd met. There had been a homicide at the Bandon Links. Her first impression of him was a redneck macho man who thought women were inferior to men. She made him eat those words and then some. After the second murder, involving the superglue victim, Rory became a believer and if things went on the way they were, it was possible they could have something going between each other.
If the truth were known, they'd become a good team with him and his partner, Ben Razor.
Stacy parked out on the street. Dan was on the scene putting up crime scene yellow tape. He'd quickly learned from the first homicide at the golf course to protect the area. She walked up and said, "What do we know for beginners Dan?"
"I'm not sure Stacy, but I shinned my mag up and it sure looks to me a body is dangling from the bell rope. The crime scene team will have to extract the body. Are the State guys coming," he asked.
"I called Rory and he's on his way. I wonder can we confirm it's a body and not some practical joke," she asked.
"I cheated Stacy. Otis brought me a ladder and I ran my hand up the pant leg. Its real body and cold to the touch. The leg was a bit hairy so it's a male," said Dan.
Stacy called Rory back and told him it was a body for sure hanging from the bell rope. He told her he'd call in the crime scene and the pathologist Marsha Stone.
-Two-
Stacy finally made contact with her chief. She told him the skimpy details and he said, "I’m going to church. You take care of it and I'll come over after I talk to God."
Stacy laughed and said, "Okay, say a prayer for me too."
Stacy was guarding the foyer where the bell rope hung off to the side of the entrance. The rope was in a small enclave so as not to tempt a mischievous individual to pull on it. She paced the floor waiting for Rory to arrive. Finally she stood in the doorway watching the rain come down in torrents. She saw his SUV pull up with headlights on and wipers attempting to perform a losing battle with the rain on the windshield.
After parking behind her, he ran to the church arriving fairly wet. It seemed rather strange that in a country that rained so much, few umbrellas were seen. It was mostly old people who treasured the umbrellas. Stacy thought they also provided some type of weapon against a dog or bad guy.
"Hey, I'm here," said Rory. "What do we have for sure?"
"Dan Swollow, one of our guys, said it's for real and no joke. It’s a male and that's all I know. It's up to the crime scene team now. I fear it will be a long day Rory," said Stacy.
Secretly Rory welcomed a day with the loveliest policewoman in Oregon. At first he thought it was just lust as he looked at the petite blonde girl fresh out of the university. Even in a uniform she turned the heads of any red-blooded male. He also realized others knew he was smitten with Stacy Foreham. What woke him up to reality was that she was not only pretty, but highly intelligent. She'd solved two previous murders mostly by herself. Sure he helped, but she was like the cream rising to the top of her field. Already there'd been talk of her exploits up in Salem at the capital.
Rory said, "I'll go interview the person who discovered the body. What's his name?"
"Otis Longger and the pastor is Arnold Westerfield. I'll wait here while you interview," said Stacy.
Rory found Pastor Arnold on the phone broadcasting a possible murder or suicide in his church to an unknown on the other end of the line. Rory thought, why do people think they are the source when it comes to gossip. How can a man in his position blabber the news. Just before he hung up he heard the pastor say, "It's spelled W-e-s-t-e-r-f-i-e-l-d. You welcome."
He turned to glare at Rory who stood in the doorway returning the daggers. "What can I do for you young man," said Pastor Arnold.
"I'm Detective Rory Caltex of the Oregon State Police. I'm heading up this investigation. To answer your question, you can tell me all there is to know about what was discovered and your whereabouts since yesterday."
"I see. Well, in that case, sit down please. I'd offer you coffee, but as things stand, it may take awhile before any is made. Now, yesterday my wife and I had dinner up in Coos Bay with Presbyterian Minister Bobby Richards and his wife. We came back home around 11 pm. We went to bed and I woke up at my usual time of 6 am on a Sunday. This morning I worked on my sermon and at 9:45 came to church. I found Otis in the entrance trying to ring the bell. I sent him to my office for a flash light and saw feet dangling from the bell rope. That's about it detective, said Pastor Arnold.
"On Saturday, did you come to church," asked Rory.
"Yes I did. I think it was around 1 pm. I needed a reference book for my sermon. I inspected the church for today's service. I found all as it should be."
"Did you see anyone around the area that you recognized or any strangers walking,'' asked Rory.
"I did see our gardener Jonas Fielder who was raking up some debris in the parking lot. Other than him, I didn't notice anyone. I was only here for maybe fifteen minutes. I waved at Jonas and left."
"Is Jonas Fielder an employee or a volunteer," asked Rory.
"Both are the answer. We pay him $800 dollars a month, plus board and room. We have a small caretaker cottage out back that he lives in. He's on SS disability so mostly he's retired. I'd say he puts in about thirty hours a week taken care of the grounds."
"What about the person who tried to ring the bell. Tell me about him," asked Rory.
"Otis Longger has been a fixture here long before I came. He's a volunteer who makes sure the church is open on time every Sunday. He turns of the lights, prepares the heaters in both the kindergarten and sanctuary. In general he is the official bell ringer and other things," said Arnold.
"A few more question Pastor Arnold. The gardener, Jonas Fielder, does he usual attend church on Sunday," asked Rory.
"Oh my yes. He's usually the first one here. I forgot about him just now. I'm sure he'll show up soon."
"Okay for now. I'd like to use your office for interviews if I may," said Rory. "Meanwhile, would you have someone locate the gardener so I can interview him," asked Rory.
"Of course you can use my office. I'll send somebody to look for Jonas while you talk to Otis," said Arnold.
There was a reason why Pastor Arnold had to have someone look for Jonas and before when he asked Otis to fetch a flashlight from his office. It was easy to see why he did those things, because, portly was a nice word to describe the obese Pastor Arnold.
Stacy came in as the pastor walked out. She said, "Marsha and her team are here. They're really efficient. It's almost like they were waiting fully prepared for a crime scene on a Sunday! Amazing. They're puzzled about how to retrieve the body. It appears Rory that suicide must not be ruled out. Otherwise, how would you get someone to hold still while you hung them from the bell rope?"
"They could have drugged him or maybe alcohol. Marsha will determine the cause of death. Meanwhile, let's interview Otis Longger."
"I'll get him Rory and while we have time, see what you can find on the pastor's desk and drawers. He'd never think we'd look around," she said with a twinkle in her eye. Rory raised his eyes thinking how anyone could violate a church office. However, if it was murder, then all connected were suspects; including the good Pastor Arnold Westerfield.
Otis actually was waiting outside the office leaning against the wall. At first Stacy thought it a bit strange he would be almost hiding from the congregation, but then after the interview realized he was very shy and not socially active.
Rory asked, "Otis tell me what happened in detail when you arrived this morning."
"I arrived at my usual time 9:30. I opened the door and went directly to the light switch. After turning on the lights I went to the pastor's office to turn on the electric heater. Then to the Sunday school room to turn on their heater. I checked the rest of the church and when I finished it was time to ring the bell at 10 am. I heard the door open and close knowing it was Pastor Arnold. I pulled but no sound. Pastor Arnold came and sent me to get his flashlight. We saw the bottoms of two feet. Pastor Arnold went to his office and called the police. That's all I know."
"Do you have any idea who it might be that is in the belfry," asked Rory.
"I could see the shoes and if I'm not mistaken they're Jonas Fielder who lives and works here as a gardener," said Otis.
"Okay Otis, how long have you been volunteering here at the church," asked Rory.
"More than thirty years. I began ringing the bell at age 17. I've never missed a Sunday."
"That's all for now Otis. For further questions we can find your address in the church records?"
"Yes, I live not far from here. My wife is home most of the time so we're available," said Otis.
Rory and Stacy left the office and went on a hunt for the gardener Jonas Fielder. With Otis showing the way, they found the small cottage empty and after a cursory inspection, it looked like nobody had slept in the bed last night. It appeared Jonas was a neat freak. The place was very clean and organized. Stacy began to feel that the body hanging by the bell tower rope was the gardener Jonas Fielder.
Dashing through the rain, Stacy and Rory went to see Marsha at the crime scene; if it was a crime and not suicide. Marsha was, as usual, very professional when it came to her job. She nodded at the two police officers and went back to the business of bringing down the body. It was evident that very soon they would have the body on the floor. It had been decided to cut the neck rope after tying off another rope to lower the body. The neck rope was a half inch tied directly to the bell rope.
Meanwhile in the church sanctuary the congregation was in a constant state of speculation and gossip. It was impossible to stop all of them from entering the church. Dan was the only Bandon policeman available that day. And he had his hands full at the front door. To a person, all knew where the back door was.
-Three-
Pastor Arnold said, "Yes, that is our Jonas. May God rest his soul in heaven?"
"Thanks pastor, you're excused for the time being," said Rory.
"Call me if I'm needed said a not so distressed pastor who had just lost his gardener and member of the church.
"Marsha, what can you tell us without going out on a limb," asked Rory.
"It appears he died of asphyxiation. Of course an autopsy will tell us more. Also a drug screen. I've not a lot scheduled for the week, so can do the autopsy tomorrow afternoon. I know you'd like a time of death, but upon examination, it's hard to tell. I'd say around midnight last night give or take a few hours one way or the other. That's about it guys. Oh by the way, I didn't see any head injuries that would induce unconsciousness."
"How about suicide Doctor," asked Stacy.
"I suppose it's possible, but not probable Stacy. For example, how did he get up there by himself. He'd need a ladder and there wasn't a ladder here until this morning. No, I think it was foul play. See you tomorrow after lunch."
The men bagged up the body and took it to a waiting van. If anything the rain was coming down harder and the wind had increased to gale strength.
"Stacy, this is our third homicide in a year. Bandon has been plagued by violent crime where once it was such a peaceful place. I called Ben and he's on his way down as we speak. Our day looks like it will be full of interviews. Someone must have seen him yesterday after the pastor saw him in the early afternoon," said Rory.
"I think we need to have the good Pastor Arnold address the congregation. He can inform them what we are looking for: anyone having seen Jonas Fielder yesterday or at anytime within the last few days. Also to find out who has keys to the church? Anything or anyone having any information please come forward," said Stacy.
"I got it Stacy," said Rory. "Also, anyone that is volunteering here or on the payroll. There should be deacons and elders who might shed some light on the good gardener."
"Let's get the show on the road Stacy. I wonder if our gardener drank to extreme," said Rory.
[**]
"My friends," said Pastor Arnold, ''today is a sad time in our church's long history. We lost a dear friend today. Jonas Fielder was a victim of foul play. We don't know yet if it was suicide or murder, but regardless, he's no long with us and he's now with God.
I've been asked to deliver a message to you good people. The police here will begin interviews with all of you to determine if anyone saw Jonas yesterday. Did any of you talk with him? The detectives want to learn from you all there is to know about Jonas Fielder. Please help them find out what happened last night around midnight. There are three police detectives who will interview so I think it best to count off by three's. Detective Caltex is number one and he's the tall one; next to him is our local sleuth Stacy Foreham will be number two; and the other gentlemen who just walked in is another detective of the OSP.
The case work had begun. For the next three hours the entire congregation of forty three had been interviewed. For our three detectives, it was way past lunch time. Bandon's chief was on hand for the last few hours chatting with the locals. Stacy knew he'd find out some things that won't be shared with the three interviewers.
Lunch was across the street from the Bandon Police Station. Its history was long and rated high on anybody's list of places to eat. Along with the three investigators was the chief. Chief Foreham was nobody's fool. He knew everyone in town as having been on the force for more than thirty years. He ordered a lunch for his patrolman Dan and the dispatcher Flo. Dan had to stay at the church to protect the crime scene and Flo had missed lunch covering for Stacy.
Stacy said, as they sat down in the conference room of the restaurant, "I'll begin with my group of church goers. Only two stand out as being pertinent to our case. One is a late middle age woman Robin Welch. She's a volunteer that does the dusting and flower arrangements in the spring and summer months. Her main job is dusting and listening to conversations that come from the pastor's office. She told me that the good pastor is or has a shady background of some sort. He's only been here in Bandon for a little over three years. All she knows is he's from Portland. His wife is sickly and rarely comes out of the house. If they have children, she doesn't know. They've never taken a vacation to her knowledge. Also, she told me he has a beautiful voice and sings with the choir.
The other interesting person is Albert Wise who is about forty something. He's a deacon and major donor for this church. He's from Port Orford, married with two children. He and his wife Clair are very devout. Their kids sing in the choir and she teaches Sunday school. He told me in confidence that Jonas was an alcoholic and he thought he had something on Pastor Arnold. He said Arnold was a strict no nonsense disciple of God. He treated all his church members with barely any civility. The church elders have been looking for a replacement, but hard to find anyone who wants to come to a remote town with scarcely enough population to fill two rows of pews. I'm finished and will eat while others talk."
Rory had been eating bread sticks until the basket was empty. Now he kept looking towards the kitchen for something more substantial. He said, "I've a few good ones. First is Hazel Albertson. She's a local secretary at an insurance agency. She's thirty nine and a widow. Nice looking with two kids ages sixteen and eighteen. She said the girl, who is the youngest, is complaining that the pastor is trying hard to molest her. She also told me that the pastor has been coming on to her for sometime now and has been more insistent as of late.
Next is a guy who thinks he knows everything that is going on at the church. Felix Weber, age sixty one and a retired cranberry bog owner. He's leased his bogs out and spends his time fishing, beach combing and involving himself in church business. He told me Jonas was a drunk, but a nice drunk. He never bothered anyone. He worked hard in the mornings and drank hard in the afternoons and night. He lost his wife to a car accident years ago. He never got over it. He too thought that Jonas knew some church dirt and was silenced because of it.
One more. An old lady who is eighty two and a still active walker and author. Emily Dewart writes romance novels with the small towns on the coast as background. She too thinks if you take the cover off the book you'll find some terrible secrets inside the pages. I took it as a metaphor for the church. She also told me to listen to the choir sing. My lunch is here. Ben you're up," said Rory.
"I got the bookkeeper who told me the church is dead broke and it appears someone has embezzled church funds. Zack Brown has been the bookkeeper at the church for years. He wouldn't say no more. He told me he didn't have any solid evidence yet. That's about it," said Ben.
Chief Foreham had finished his bowl of chowder and sat thinking about what had been said. He knew all these people including Albert Wise of Port Orford. The person he didn't really know was Pastor Arnold Westerfield. He'd heard nothing about the man; either good or bad. To him it seemed a little obvious that the prime suspect would be the pastor. However, who says murder has to be complicated. As far as Jonas was concerned, he knew him to be a man who liked his vodka. He didn't hide the fact. Well, be that as it may, Stacy would dig until the guilty was uncovered. All knew her well enough now that once she caught the scent, she was off and running.
-Four-
Pastor Arnold went home totally dejected. He and his wife lived only a few blocks away, but walking was not in his vocabulary and besides it was pouring down rain. As he squirmed into his old Ford Taurus he thought about what had transpired on the Sabbath. Jonas had been a thorn in his side from the beginning. He'd inherited Jonas from the previous pastor who made Arnold swear that he would keep the fine gardener on. Arnold never batted an eye with his promise. What did he care about a gardener who was reported to start happy hour early every day?
Now he lamented the fact it didn't look good for his ball club that Jonas was murdered. The investigators would soon find out he would top the list of suspects. Would they find out that just yesterday he and Jonas had words? For once he liked the idea he was a fat man. Surely they must see he couldn't possibly raise Jonas up into the small area to hang the man. He doubted he would fit into that small space.
He started his car, watched the wipers struggle against the incoming rain. The inside of the car fogged up and he had to wait until the defroster cleared the window before he drove home to see his miserable wife. Helga Westerfield was almost to the point of being bedridden. She was a total hypochondriac. She had been playing for his sympathy for the last ten years. He wished it had been her hanging from the belfry instead of Jonas. However, Jonas had let on he knew Arnold's secret desires for the young flesh. He prayed that his terrible desires would be forgiven by God.
He backed out and drove home hungry as hell. They'd hired a housekeeper and he told her to have a couple of chicken's fried up with mashed spuds when service ended today. He honestly wondered, as he pulled into his small one car garage, how long they'd be in Bandon. So far in his career being a pastor, they'd almost circled the USA.
Pastor Arnold forgot his troubles as he sat down to a lovely Sunday dinner placed in front of him. He gobbled the chicken and potatoes like there was no tomorrow. He washed it all down with a quart of milk. Needless to say, their main budget was food.
After a late lunch the investigators went to the police station to compare notes and make a plan for further interviews. The chief sat with them as they discussed the case. Stacy said, while sipping a hot honey tea that Flo had made, "Okay guys, how did our victim get up to where he was. Even if he was out cold for one reason or another, how did the murderer raise him to level he was at. Let's say the perp used a ladder, but then what? It would take a strong person or it was something mechanical to raise the victim up into the small space. I see a wooden ladder fastened to the wall. However, that's a 90 degree angle up. I think we need to go back to the church and examine more closely the wood ladder, the bell and its supports.
On another subject, it would appear that our good Pastor has a checkered background. We need a thorough background check on him. It's possible he slipped through the cracks as to his previous locations."
"I'll do that job," said Ben Razor. "I know a guy in our Salem office who can find out what color underwear he uses."
"I'll interview Felix Weber. I think he knows a lot more than he let on," said Rory. Also, come to think about it, I'll see Hazel Albert's. She was giving me the eye so she might be forthcoming if I flash my winning smile."
"You're so vain Sherlock Caltex," said Stacy. "However, I'll see the daughter and maybe she'll open up on Pastor Arnold and his illicit desires for underage children."
"I'd like to interview our local romance author Emily Dewart. Believe it or not, I've read a book of hers. My wife reads all her stuff. It's really mushy over the top unbelievable relationships that end in one big orgasm." Flo was listening and she cracked up, making everyone laugh to relieve the seriousness of the situation.
Chief Foreham cleared his throat and said, "It's true that Jonas was a heavy drinker. He promised me years ago he wouldn't drink and drive. That's what killed his wife was a drunken driver. It was rare that he took his old pickup out for a drive. I'd stop by during the week once in awhile and if I saw him out trimming, I'd stop and chew the fat with him. The last time was a couple weeks ago. I saw Pastor Arnold drive out as I drove in. He never waved and looked angry. Jonas was strung tighter than a violin string. The only thing he said was, "Someday I'll fix that guys wagon."
Anyway, now to Emily Dewart. She's very observant. I know not what she infers, but prying it out of her will take some doing.
Felix Weber is one smart feller. Over the years a lot of people have worked for him. He doesn't comment on hearsay, but will discuss facts with the interviewer.
The opposite of him is Robin Welch. She will relate every scrap of information she has to make it look like the second coming; forgive me lord. However, she's no man's dummy. Just separate fact from fiction when listening to her.
The last one on your list is Albert Wise from Port Orford. He came up the hard way: work. He and Clair married young, but it proves young doesn't matter. They've a nice family. Outside of his business, church is almost at the same level. He donates heavily to the church. Clair is the Sunday school teacher. His two kids sing in the choir.
One last thing. I'd suggest you take the rest of the day off from interviews. Nobody saw, heard anything. You're looking for motive and opportunity. Wait until tomorrow to begin your second round of interview after the autopsy. Meanwhile go back to the church and snoop around. Find out how Jonas rose to the top; so to speak. I'm going home. Good hunting," he said walking out the door saying bye to Flo.
"I for one like the idea of going back to the church. Let's do some evidence searching," said Stacy. Both Rory and Ben nodded to agree.
They drove over in Rory's SUV. The rain hadn't let up and it was, if anything blowing and storming harder than ever. Dan was huddled up in his cruiser in front of the church looking bored as hell.
He said, "Now I've someone to talk to. The crime scene team left an hour ago. If you're here for awhile, I'll rush home and have dinner with the family and be back later?"
"Go," said Stacy. "We've some things to do. I presume you have the keys to all the locks?"
"Yes, here you are. Catch you later." And he was gone in a flash and splash of puddles leaving the parking lot.
Inside the three investigators walked slowly to where the bell rope hung. It was behind a sort of enclave. A series of wooden steps rose straight up to the bell tower. Rory went first, Stacy next and Ben followed last. At the top a wood floor sat under the bell. A gap for the rope was about six inches wide and about six feet long. At each end a support held a steel shaft that anchored the bell. The bell itself sat on the shaft with two pillow block bearings holding it in place. All in all it was very stout.
One problem was the light in the small area was dim. Stacy had her handy small Mag Lite. With slow movement down the shaft, her eyes not but a few inches from the shaft, she looked for anything that might indicate something was used to hoist an unconscious body up the bell rope. Rory said, while watching her, "Are you thinking something mechanical lifted the body up and then tied it off around the neck making it look like he was hung?"
"Yes, I remember my father using a tool that had a handle on it that went clacky clack. He used it to pull some stumps out of our yard when a storm blew a few trees over," said Stacy.
Ben said, "It's called a cum-a-long. Every farmer has one and truckers use them too. It has a large hook on one end. See if you can find a shiny place on the shaft where it might show a hook or steel against steel place."
Stacy moved down the shaft and when she was almost where the rope went down, she saw a very small place where it was just possible a steel hook or something was recently against the shaft. Stacy continued up and down the shaft two times. She showed it to both Rory and Ben.
Stacy said, "You know, the crime scene team should have noted any dust prints seeing if somebody had recently been up here. The floor is really dusty."
Rory said, "Let's go find the gardener's shed for tools."
Back on the first floor, they went out the back door dashing to Jonas's cottage where next to it was the tool shed. It was locked, but Stacy took the wad of keys to find the one that fit the Master lock. Meanwhile Rory and Ben stood in the rain. Finally Stacy found the key and all went inside.
Like his house, the shed was neat and orderly. Tools of all sorts hung from the walls or pegboards. Glass jars of nuts and bolts with their lids nailed to a board made selection quick and efficient.
All three, almost at the same time, saw the cum-a-long hanging on the wall. They looked at each other smiling. Then Stacy said, "Let's say that this tool was used to ratchet up Jonas. After he was in place the killer tied a rope around his neck, attached the rope to the bell rope. He or she released the tool and Jonas expired. The perp removed the cum-a-long and hung it back up here in the tool shed. I'd suspect the tool is wiped clean of prints. If so, then I think we have a good idea how he was killed or at least how he died. Somebody might have assisted Jonas in a suicide too. Let's not discount that end of things."
"I like it. It could be that Jonas and the Pastor had a belly full of each other. Maybe the pastor had played a game of being a good guy buying Jonas a bottle of expensive 100 proof vodka. Pastor tell Jonas that they should bury the hatched and begin again. Long story short, Jonas passes out, pastor drags him to the bell rope, get the cum-a-long, ratchets him up and that's the end of Jonas."
Stacy and Ben look at each other and shrugged their shoulders. Ben says "That might work Rory. It's known Pastor and friends had dinner in Coos Bay. He says they returned around 11 pm. His wife goes to bed as she is not feeling well. He sneaks out and goes to the church with the bottle, or maybe he gave the bottle to Jonas during the daytime. Then he finds Jonas passed out at 11:30 and drags him to the bell rope?"
Stacy said, "Then he should have drag marks on his shoes or did the pastor use a wheel barrow?" Stacy walked out the door where an overhang off the shed roof housed the wheel barrow and ladders. One short ladder and an extension ladder. Rory and Ben examined the wheel barrow.
Ben said, "This would do the trick. This is a nice barrow. It has a large front wheel and deep to carry cement in. I think we need the crime scene boys to give it a going over for fibers."
"Let's say it came down another way," said Rory. Jonas is not passed out and pastor brings the bottle. He has a knock out drug that he drops into a glass when Jonas is not looking. Bingo, he's gone and then wheel barrow or has Jonas meet him inside the church calling him by phone from Coos Bay."
"We could go on and on all day guys," said Stacy. First let's get the tool examined. Then the barrow. Then we hit the people for interviews after the autopsy tomorrow."
Rory said, "Let's call it a day and Ben can send his buddy an e-mail checking the background of Pastor Arnold. I'll go to the office and make my report. I'll see you at the autopsy tomorrow Stacy."
Rory left Stacy at the church as her car was still sitting there. Dan had come back and Stacy promised she would have another officer replace him later that night.
She drove home while the storm raged on. Her father was a good cook and he loved to fix a nice Sunday dinner just for the two of them. It was family time and this was one reason she didn't want to work back east or in a big city for that matter.
So many of her high school friends had left Bandon for greener pastures, especially moving to a big city where jobs were had. For Stacy, the four years gone from home was enough for the time being. She totally enjoyed being home with her father. Sadly her mother left the living world early, but she was in God's pasture now.
"Hi dad, you home," she yelled out walking through the door. Of course it was a stupid question as the house smelled like some Italian restaurant. She took off her rain coat and hat in the small entryway. What she needed was a shower; and a hot one at that.
"I'm in the kitchen, where else would I be daughter," said Ray.
"I'll be right back after a change of clothes. That smells really good dad."
After a hot shower, sweats on upper and lower, wool socks, she sat down at the table watching her father make a green salad. She guesses lasagna in the oven and she was right. Her mouth was watering.
"Open the wine please and let it breathe. Any new ideas on the death at the church," he asked.
"I think we have a good idea that Jonas was raised up by a cum-a-long and then tied to the bell rope. I'm guessing his weight at around 170 lbs. Do you think I could run the tool and lift that much weight dad?"
"Yes, but for a first timer, it's not so easy to operate a cum-a-long. It's a good idea and do you have any evidence to support your theory?"
"We found a scratch mark where something like the large hook on the cum-a-long made on the support shaft for the bell. After raising Jonas up it would be simple to tie a rope around his neck to finish the job. After that let the tension off the tool, take it back to the tool shed, close the door and leave."
"Here take this bowl and dig out some dressing please. I'm going to take out the lasagna and let it stand for a few minutes. Meanwhile we can enjoy a fresh salad."
"Stacy, this is your third homicide in a year. I can't recall having three homicides in ten years. All three, if the pastor is charged, are from out of town. I don't know where I'm going with this conversation, but it would seem we are having a small explosion of deaths around here. I fear what's on the horizon or what's down the road for our little town. People are beginning to talk and their talk is not good. Soon they will demand more law enforcement. However, they won't want an additional tax to pay for it. I need to talk to the mayor soon. How's the salad daughter?"
"Good as ever. I want the lasagna very soon. Do we have any bread to go with it or are we on a diet tonight," she said laughing.
"I warmed some up in the microwave. I'll get the main course and you fetch the bread."
After dinner they went to the living room. Stacy had rented a movie the night before and neither one watched it last night. Stacy said, "You want to watch a movie dad?"
"Sure why not. I'm not sure I'll make it all the way through, but who cares. I'm kind of tired of listening to the rain and wind."
Stacy put the movie in and set the volume that was tolerable for both of them. After that she took out a legal pad and made some notes and questions to ask the selected folks beginning tomorrow afternoon late.
-Five-
Twenty seven miles south of Bandon is a small town named Port Orford. This is where Albert and Clair Wise and their two kids lived. They were owners of the local True Value Hardware store and Clair taught at the elementary school. The population is less than 1500 and of course, everyone knows everyone else in town.
The Wise family were notably well off. On the contrary, they didn't have money to burn, but for their simply tastes, never wanted for anything either. They were extremely religious and were strong supporters of the First Christ Church in Bandon. Many residents wondered why they didn't attend church in their town. The main reason was Albert's father had a run in with the local Lutheran church and swore he would take his business out of town. Few knew he owned a large part of the downtown area. In addition, old man Wise was frugal as all get out. Be that as it may, the investigators were to spend many hours either in Port Orford or driving back and forth.
Stacy with her mechanical pencil stuck in her mouth thinking about what all the potential people they had interviewed had in common with what they said. Perusing her notes, she saw one thing that stood out over anything else. Pastor Arnold seemed to like females maybe too much. There are two places in a church where you can always find kids: Sunday school and the choir. The Wise family had two kids in the choir. One a sixteen year old girl and the other an eighteen year old boy.
Hazel Albert's, Stacy noted had said her girl Patsy had complained that the pastor was overly friendly. Hazel too said he came on to her rather brazen and forward; not that she minded so much. He boasted her ego a little. However, it was a different story if he started or continued groping young children.
This case was taking on the appearance of an event that could blow the lid off this small community. If the pastor was a child molester, god helps him she thought. But, what did or how did this involve the murder of the gardener Jonas, was the underlying question.
Okay, she thought, what else is there noteworthy to follow. She saw the name of Emily Dewart the writer. It appeared she knew that underneath the cover of the church, dirty linen was evident. Also the flower lady duster person, Robin Welch, was an eavesdropper personified. It would be stories with a thick coat of frosting; with falsehoods, but never the less, parts would be facts.
Felix Weber, remembering what he father said about him made her sit back and watch to see what developed. He appeared like a guy who played games to make himself look good. Be that as it may, he had a good grasp on the doings of the church.
The bookkeeper Zack Brown made mention some church funds were missing, but failed to report how much. A small church like this one couldn't have much in the bank, but then again, who really knows but the accountant.
Stacy quit chewing on her pencil and laid her head back on the sofa closing her eyes. Over the din of the TV she could still hear the storm lashing the side of the house. Peeking out of one eye she saw her father with his head to one side catching a few winks before bedtime.
Stacy stood up, turned the TV off and woke her father up. They turned out the lights, checked the doors and went to bed. Stacy wondered what the autopsy would reveal on the morrow.
//***\\
Monday morning found the storm had passed, but heavy clouds were an indicator of another storm right behind the last one. A weather man coined the phrase for the Pacific Norwest storms as 'The Pineapple Express' as regards the weather coming from the area of Hawaii.
Stacy smelled coffee brewing and she loved the smell more than the taste. Her father was an early riser; her mother too, when she was alive and well. Stacy was not so early, but usually bounced out of bed making ready for the day.
Dressed in a neat freshly dry cleaned uniform, Stacy felt a little hungry. Father knew his daughter well and had scrambled eggs and toast ready. There wasn't a lot of talk in the mornings and when they finished breakfast, Stacy loaded the dish washer and left for work. She needed to make some phone calls and make appointments for interviews.
But first she drove by the church, after a quick stop at the local drive through coffee shop, to treat the policeman on duty. Dan was back on the job as she pulled in. He was happy to see her and gobbled the muffin and coffee down with glee. He said, "All's quiet here Stacy. A few drive by full of lookie loos is all."
"The autopsy is this afternoon. Just for fun, write down the license plates that show an interest in the church. It could be our killer might make a pass or two to see what's going on," she said.
Back and police station she sat down at her small desk to make some calls. First she called Robin Welch. Robin picked up on the second ring. Stacy told her who she was and immediately Robin asked, "What time do you want to come by Stacy?"
"It will be around dinner time Ms. Welch. The autopsy is this afternoon and I won't be back till dark. Is that a good or bad time for you," asked Stacy.
"Anytime is fine Stacy. I'll bake some cookies for us to munch on while we talk. See you tonight then."
Hazel Alberts would be at work shortly. However, that didn't mean she couldn't set up an appointment with her. As it was past 9 am she rang the insurance office to see about a good time to interview. Hazel answered professionally and Stacy told her who she was. "Ms Alberts I'd like to ask a few more questions of you sometime soon. When would it be convenient for you to see me," asked Stacy.
"Actually, the boss is out today and I'm all alone. If you want to come now and we can talk. I'm all caught up on my work so all I have to do is answer the phone," said Hazel.
"I'll be there in a minute," said Stacy.
Five minutes later Stacy was sitting on the side of Hazel's desk. They knew each other by sight, but had never really talked much. Stacy said, "Thanks for seeing me on such short notice Hazel.'' [they both agreed to use first names] "Tell me what you told the other investigator about the church pastor and anything else that might be important."
"Alright, here goes. At first Pastor Arnold was formal and polite. Us church members were delighted at his demeanor and he had excellent sermons. Then after about a year, he started dropping hints that his marriage wasn't so hot, and wondered if I'd like to have dinner sometime after church. Well, he's a married man and I'd no sooner go out with a married man than-------well, you know. Anyway, I was polite putting him off. Then, as my daughter Patsy loves to sing, she's been a choir member since she was about twelve years old.
One day, about a year ago, I think the date is about right, my daughter told me that Pastor Arnold wanted to give her private singing lessons after church. I didn't think much about it at the time. Well, about the third session she came home sort of blubbering. I asked her what the problem was and she told me Pastor Arnold had fondled her breasts. However, he made it appear as an accident. Needless to say, that was the end of the private lessons."
"I see," said Stacy. "Now have you heard any other church members complaining about his behavior one way or the other?"
"Indeed yes. Mrs. Wise told me that she suspects the pastor is not right in the head. For example, she told me when her daughter is with her entering the church and he's out welcoming the members, he doesn't look at her much but his eyes are roaming over her lovely daughter.
I'll admit Stacy that girls today look and talk much older than they are in years old. My daughter is very pretty. I'm not bragging but it's true. She a cheerleader and her boyfriend is a star sports figure here in town.
I've heard through the grape vine other mother's suspect that he might be taking liberties with the younger Sunday school kids. Mrs. Wise is the Sunday school teacher and sometimes Pastor Arnold comes to her room to interact with the kids. She can't watch him all the time, but anyway, I can't confirm any of this except what my daughter told me."
"What can you tell me about Jonas and his relationship to the church," asked Stacy.
"Jonas was a sweet old man. Indeed he liked his vodka, but who can fault him for that vice. He did his job and did it well. If you look at his cottage and work area, you'll see it's spotless and neatly organized. However, by 3 or 4 pm he's on his way to someplace where he can live in peace with his grief. I've lived here my whole life Stacy. I've known Jonas for many years. If you think its suicide, forget it. It's has to be murder.
Our last pastor was a prince of a man; god rests his old bones. He and Jonas were best of friends. But, Jonas and Pastor Arnold didn't see eye to eye on most everything. It seemed the pastor wanted to show Jonas he was the boss man and must take orders from him. I remember one time; I had some flowers delivered here for one reason or another. It was Friday and they would wilt over the weekend. I decided to take them to the church. When I arrived both Jonas and Pastor Arnold were waving their arms in a violent manner. I tooted my horn to break it up.
The scowl went off his face and a big smile replaced the frown lines on his fat face. I put on a cheerful appearance and showed him a backseat full of flowers. Jonas saw and he came over to help. I left soon afterwards.
It's clear to most all of us church members that Pastor Arnold and Jonas were always at odds. Why, who knows. I did hear from Clair Wise that the elders are looking hard for a replacement. That's what keeps us going is the future of our church."
"Many thanks Hazel. You've been a big help. I have to run now to Coos Bay. I will probably have more questions and if you agree, I'd like to talk to your daughter?"
"Call me anytime Stacy and I'll check with Patsy. I think because you're a female she will agree to discuss the incident with you," said Hazel as the phone rang for the first time since she arrived. Stacy waved and out the door she went into the drizzle that was beginning to fall out of the sky.
-Six-
There's one thing about a morgue and that is the smell never changes. It stays the same whether old bodies go out the door or new ones come in. Be that as it may, Stacy put on a happy face as she and Marsha were becoming friends. Stacy had been here two times before and familiar with the ropes: storeroom for gown and restroom for dressing.
Stacy was early, but Marsha was on the job since early in the morning. No sooner had Stacy dressed then in walked Rory and Ben. Both waved and she waved back entering the autopsy room while they changed dress.
Marsha saw Stacy and gave a smiling nod concealed behind her face mask. It appeared she was about finished as told her assistant to take over. She turned off the mic and as she walked to greet Stacy, removed her mask. She said, "Morning Stacy. Let's take a short break. I need a caffeine boast. There was a car accident near Lakeside and three people died. People just won't be patient and have to pass where they shouldn't."
Rory and Ben joined the two women and discussed the weather as usual. Ben said, "I got a prelim report on Pastor Arnold and it's not looking good for his ball club. There're some strong accusations of sexual misconduct in Bozeman, Montana where he was a pastor before coming to Portland. My friend is digging further back as we speak. Portland did a very poor job running a background check and rushed him off to an empty church in Bandon. That's it for now."
"Well, let's begin our autopsy on the gardener," said Marsha as she groaned a little getting up.
"Are you alright Marsha," asked Stacy.
"Yes just a twitch in the lower back from bending over the table. I'm fine. Let's go see what we can discover."
Inside her assistant had Jonas laid out on the table ready to go. Marsha put on her mask and set the recorder and video to begin the procedure. She lowered the green sheet to the waist. Stacy thought Jonas was in pretty good shape as no fat was evident. Marsha started at the top of the head and worked down. When she came to the neck, after examining the head for indications of some blunt force trauma, she spent a long time with the rope around his neck.
To Stacy the rope appeared about a half inch polypropylene which was common at any hardware store. Marsha slowly and with care cut the rope saving it for evidence. Rory whispered into Stacy ear, "Did we see a rope similar to that which was around his neck in the tool shed?"
"I don't know. We made a mistake I think," said Stacy.
"Ben leaned in and said, "Yes, a similar rope was hanging on the wall. It had a fresh cut on it too."