Jason Deas - Cameron Caldwell 01 - Private Eye (14 page)

“Did you come to town last week?”

“No. I didn’t kill my brother. If I did, I would tell you. I would be so proud of extinguishing his pitiful life, I would tell you. I would have to brag about my accomplishment.”

“What’s with the Killer Creek beer?”

“An unfortunate coincidence. As you probably saw, I took the labels off all of the other ones in the fridge that had the same label. I knew the law would be sniffing around sooner rather than later and I didn’t want to give them any extra ammo.”

“There might be somebody else come by, but I doubt it. If you’re telling me the truth I don’t think you’ll have any trouble.”

“Do one thing for me if you will.”

“If I can, I will.”

“I want permission to come to town for the funeral.”

“I thought you didn’t care about your brother.”

“I don’t. I just want to spit on his grave.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Cam made it back to town early in the evening. He wondered if Daphne would still be at the diner. She was. The door was locked and he knocked. She peeked her head from the back, saw him, and her face lit up.

“Where’ve you been all day?” she asked, opening the door.

“I drove over to Dahlonega.”

“Ah. You paid a visit to Darren?”

“Yeah. Why didn’t anybody tell me Billy had a brother? And for that matter, why did I just find out that Turner was Hank’s son?”

“Well, Darren basically doesn’t exist. He was run out of town after he tried to burn Billy’s house down. And Turner doesn’t like to be known as Hank’s son. He just likes to be known as Turner.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s a small town and people want to have their own identity. You grew up in a small town didn’t you? Did you prefer to be known as your father’s son or as Cameron Caldwell?”

“I guess that makes some sense.”

“And, for a long time, Hank didn’t claim him. Hank’s a Vietnam vet and feels like the country did him wrong. He won’t talk about specifics, but he holds a grudge for something that happened over there. When Turner turned eighteen and wanted to join the military, Hank just about blew a gasket. He forbade it. Turner joined the marines anyway, and Hank told him he was dead to him. They didn’t talk for the whole four years Turner was away. Whenever he’d call, his dad would hang up on him. He wouldn’t open his letters. Supposedly, he just tossed them in the trash.”

“Wow. Something really bad must have happened for him to turn away his son like that. What got them back on speaking terms?”

“Turner did his four years and moved back to town. He showed up at his dad’s gas station and again this is hearsay, but Hank threatened to have him arrested for trespassing. Turner broke down crying and told him he was right about everything he’d told him. Hank was getting ready to call the cops when Turner lifted up his shirt and showed Hank two places where he’d been shot. Evidently the wounds were a horrific sight and Hank began bawling too. And that was that.” Changing the subject she asked, “So what’d you think of Darren?”

“He’s certainly a character. I think he hated Billy enough to kill him, but I don’t think he did it.”

“Were you able to …” Daphne tried to find the words she was looking for. Not able to locate any she pointed to her eyes with two fingers and to Cam’s.

“No.”

“Maybe if you didn’t drink for a few days you could wrap this case up.”

“That would seem like the perfect plan, wouldn’t it?” Cam shifted his weight back and forth. “Can we sit down for just a second? I want to tell you something.”

“OK.”

“Last night after she left the crime scene, Blanca came by the house.” He looked at Daphne’s face for a reaction and swore he saw her relax. “We talked, had a few drinks, and apparently she’s a lightweight as she fell asleep on my couch.”

“I know. But thanks for telling me.”

“Claude told you?”

“No, Blanca did.”

“She did?”

“Yeah. She came in right after I closed and told me. She felt terrible about it. She admitted to trying to put the moves on you before she thought better of it.”

“It’s true. She made sure to tell me that you’d told her you didn’t want anything to do with me either.”

 Daphne patted Cam’s hand. “That’s not exactly what I said. No matter what you think about yourself, I think you’re a pretty good guy.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment as they’re hard to come by.”

“She said if I saw you to tell you she needs to talk to you.”

Cam walked into the Miner’s Bluff Police Department in search of Blanca. The officer at the desk pointed him toward her office.

“Knock, knock,” he said, at her half-opened door.

“Come in.” Blanca shuffled papers on her desk as Cam entered. She didn’t look up. Cam sat.

“I visited …”

“Shhh,” Blanca said, cutting him off. “I just got a fax I’m trying to decipher. This doesn’t make any sense,” she said to the room. Cam wanted to ask what didn’t make sense, but he held his tongue. “Hmm. What the fu …?”

Not able to hold it in any longer Cam asked, “
What?
”

Blanca looked up. “Fortunately, I have an old friend at the state lab who owes me a big favor. Although I don’t have anything solid yet, she just faxed me a report that shows two different blood types were found on Billy’s knife. I’m sure one of them is his, but who could the other belong to?”

“I know you’re not going to like my answer, but I’d have to guess it’s Chief Lee’s.”

Blanca’s face turned white. “My God. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Take a deep breath,” Cam instructed. She set the fax down. “Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.”

She took deep breaths and pushed her chair back away from her desk, putting her head between her knees. “Do you really think it could be?” she said to the floor.

“If it’s not, I’ll never have another drink for as long as I live. That’s how sure I am. How good of a friend is this you have in the lab?”

“She’s almost like a sister. She said she’d push everything through as fast as she could. I can’t tell you how much better my life would be if we could close that case. I swear there are still people in this town who think I did it—thanks to Billy. I knew he was bad news, but I never dreamt he could actually be this bad. Something inside of me would never let me believe he could do something like this.”

Cam waited for her to breathe. “Are there any other preliminary findings?”

Getting herself together, Blanca said, “He didn’t have the map in his pocket. But I’m sure that’s what lured him there.”

“So, whoever did this cut his hand off out there and brought it back to town. Why do you think they did that?”

“God only knows. Did you get to talk to Darren and Alice today?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you find out anything pertinent?”

“No. I did find out that Darren is Billy’s brother. That information would have been helpful. I also found out what you were referring to about him.”

“Sorry. Yeah, believe it or not he tried to burn his brother’s house down in broad daylight. Didn’t try to hide it or anything. He’s dangerous. Even though Billy’s dead, if I ever see him I’ll arrest him and bring him up on the charges.”

“I need you to make one exception.”

Blanca raised her eyebrows.

“He would like permission to come to Billy’s funeral. It might do us a favor to see him interact with the others from town. I’ve pieced together more than one investigation at a funeral just by observing.”

“OK. Just this once.”

“I’ll let him know. They didn’t find anything else?”

“They haven’t let me know anything besides the fact he had something in his mouth.”

“What?”

“A piece of metal. Whoever killed him shoved a piece of metal in his mouth.”

“What kind of metal? What was it?

“She said she wasn’t sure but it looked like the knob off an old radio.”

By some strange miracle, Cam only had one more drink once home and went to bed. He didn’t dream. Or if he did they were so deep he didn’t recognize the disturbance. Sleep for Cam was darkness. Not puffy dreams and clouds. The abyss.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Claude blasted when he entered the door the next morning. “I’m going to make your eggs over-easy this morning,” he said, entering into Cam’s room and throwing open the drapes.

Cam sat up in bed. “Really?”

“No. I only do scrambled.”

“I was starting to wonder if you’d been holding out on me.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Out of the shower, Cam found him hovered over the stove and as the frying pan sizzled Claude asked, “So what’s on the docket today?”

“I need to cross a few more suspects off my list. And I need to find Darren’s phone number so I can call him and tell him Blanca has given her permission for him to come to the funeral tomorrow.” Cam saw Claude shake his head. “He doesn’t have a phone?”

“Nope. If you want to talk to him you’ll have to go over there. Who were you going to try to cross off your list of suspects?”

“You.”

“Fine. I’ll ride with you.”

“How about you drive and I’ll pay for gas?”

“Fine, but I get to pick the music. And we have to make a stop at one of my favorite junkyards.” Cam asked why. “The beautiful pieces of metal for my sculptures don’t just show up on my doorstep.”

“That’s not how it works, huh?”

“No. And you have to promise not to get commode-hugging drunk.”

“Promise.”

After a quick breakfast the guys stopped by Daphne’s diner for a refill of coffee and to tell her where they were going. She asked them to stop by when they got back to town.

The junkyard filled the side of a massive hill and could be seen from the distance. A graveyard of cars filled the treeless area interspersed with mountains of metal. As they neared the entrance, Cam spied an orange caboose. “I thought they were red.”

Claude ignored the question as he parked the old Dodge truck in front of a row of wheelbarrows. An older man heard the truck and came out of a shop area with a near toothless grin.

“Shoot boy. We ain’t gonna have nothing left if you keep making up a storm of art.”

Claude tossed him the keys to his truck and asked, “You ready to sell the caboose?”

“Shoot. You can’t afford it. I’d like to sell it to you though, just to see you try and get it home.”

“I told you that would be my problem. If companies can move houses, they surely can move a caboose.”

“I still ain’t ready. Had my first job on that railroad.”

“I know, I know. My friend here doesn’t want to hear the story about you bedding down that gal in the caboose. I swear I’ve heard it so many times I could tell it better than you anyway.”

Cam stuck out his hand and offered his name. “Snuff,” the old man said in return. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Claude instructed Cam to get a wheelbarrow as he himself chose one. The two walked out into the yard pushing the heavy-duty carriers as Snuff hollered, “Got a new load of scrap over by the green Beetle.”

Once they were out of earshot, Cam asked, “Snuff?”

“Cool name, huh?”

Cam didn’t answer. He followed Claude down a series of trails. The trail crossed a dirt road several times, which seemed to snake back and forth throughout the area. Once the shop looked like a small rectangle on the horizon, Claude spied an old golf club on the ground and set his wheelbarrow down. He picked up the two-iron, winked at Cam, and took a step closer to one of the old cars. Without a word, he cocked the club and swung. The back window of the vehicle shattered in an explosion of glass.

“Oh yeah! Back in balance! Sometimes when you create so much you have to destroy to get back in balance.”

Cam eyed him curiously.

“I told you I’m a man of symmetry.” He handed Cam the club. “Beat that. We can’t leave the front window intact.”

“It wouldn’t be symmetrical.”

Claude bobbed his head with pleasure.

Cam gripped the club and turned the face so it would strike the window correctly. Taking a slow practice swing, he brought the club to the window, touched the pane, and reared back. With a violent swing, Cam connected with the window and let go of the club immediately after impact. The glass shattered and the club’s momentum sucked it into the car’s interior.

“Damn. You got some pent up rage, brother.” He picked up his wheelbarrow and took off once again down the trail in search of the green VW Beetle. The hoodless car came into view around the next bend. The mountain of metal piled next to it stood at least two stories high. “First one to the top wins,” Claude hollered as he took off running.

Claude stood on the top of the pile with his hands in the air as Cam neared the halfway point. He felt lucky he had not broken his ankle as the random metal pieces shifted slightly under his weight.

Reaching the top, Cam asked, “How did you do that? I know it’s all too heavy to fall, but it moves.”

“Touch and go, touch and go. You don’t contact it long enough for it to move. Easier said than done, but I’ve been doing this for a long time.” He looked out across the junkyard and his face turned serious. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

“Looks like a bunch of junk to me.”

“I see endless possibilities. A million sculptures just waiting to happen. It’s all about the way you see things. And that’s what makes people so interesting. We all see things differently. Know what I mean?”

“Better than you know.”

Claude laughed. “Look who’s getting cryptic. I’ve got a challenge for you and me. I want you to fill your wheelbarrow with things you find interesting on this mound. If it’s near the top, just toss it down near your cart and load it when you get back down. I’ll make you a sculpture out of whatever you find. All of it on one piece. Cool?”

“Sounds like fun.”

As he began to survey the pile, he could not believe the vast array of things he saw. An old weather vane caught his eye first and to pull it out he had to move a few other pieces around it. Once successful, he pried it out and showed it to Claude. He puffed his chest out with his first pick and Claude’s reaction of two thumbs up. A rusted cam shaft caught is eye and he tugged at it with no success. He tried to shuffle the pile to retrieve it but eventually gave up and settled on a heavy triangle.