Authors: Mark de Castrique
“Yes. What, where, when, and why. But who?”
Romero turned and headed for the front of the trailer. “Let's see if we can avoid a warrant to search Cransford's car.”
The first words out of Darren's mouth were, “I want a lawyer.”
“Fine,” Romero said. “But you're not being charged with anything, and I thought you'd like to be on your way.”
Darren looked at me as if to say, “Is this guy kidding?”
“You and I can go back into town,” I said. “You'll still need to make an official statement and answer any follow-up questions that might arise.”
“You'll go with me?” Someone plucked from the deck of the
Titanic
couldn't have looked more relieved.
“That's right,” Romero said. “As soon as we get your car cleared.”
“Cleared for what?” Darren asked.
“Well, it's at the scene of a murder and owned by the man who was found next to the body. You were concerned about our having a warrant before searching your car, so I'd be irresponsible to allow the vehicle to leave the premises without checking it.”
“How long will that take?”
“Hard to say. I've got to get a judge, then have the search warrant delivered for you to see, plus we've got our hands full here already.” Romero looked at the Infiniti. “Of course, you could just open the car voluntarily and then you and Barry would be on your way in five minutes.”
Darren's jaw worked back and forth as he thought about Romero's proposition. “I just didn't want people to know I brought them.”
“Brought what?” I asked.
Darren pulled a remote key from his pocket and pointed it at the Infiniti. A short beep sounded and the trunk popped open. “Signs and placards I had made in Charlotte.”
The trunk was full of poster boards and wooden rods.
“I thought Eddie could organize nailing the signs to the handles and then lead several carloads of protestors to Raleigh.”
Romero picked up a stack of white placards. Red lettering spelled out short messages: Cherokee For Catawba, Casino Rights For Catawbas, Stand Up For Tribal Equality.
“Eddie Wolfe asked you for these?” Romero asked.
“No. Jimmy Panther. Since his death I've left voice messages for Eddie but he wasn't returning my calls. Yesterday I got his address from the Boys Club and came out to learn once and for all if he was serious about the Raleigh demonstration.”
“Did he know you were coming?” Romero asked.
“No. I figured if I left that on his phone, he'd make a point of not being here.”
I thought about the fifteen grand in Eddie's bag. “Were you paying Eddie to organize this rally?”
“No. The idea started with Panther and he never mentioned money. If there was even the slightest hint that the Catawba proponents were funding their Cherokee support, the effectiveness on the legislators would be severely compromised. They'd just be another group of lobbyists.”
Darren and I watched Romero rummage through the trunk and then the car's interior. Other than the sign materials, he found nothing else of interest.
Romero opened the driver's door. “OK, Mr. Cransford. You can go with Barry to the station and write your formal statement. Be sure and leave a cell number with the duty officer and don't leave Cherokee until I call you.”
Darren got in the car without comment.
“Do you have the manpower to collect that soil sample?” I asked.
“Yes, but probably not till this afternoon.”
“I'd like to go with you.”
Romero laughed. “Don't worry, Barry. I won't let you miss a single minute of this mess.”
Darren turned the car around and we headed down the gravel road.
“Mess. This is a god damned nightmare,” he said. “First I lose my job, then my mother, and now I'm a murder suspect.”
“Do you know your dad's up here?”
“In Cherokee?”
“Sandra drove him up yesterday. He wanted to get out of the house.”
Darren said nothing.
“Mind if I ask why you haven't told him about your job?”
“Because there's nothing he can do about it. He's upset enough without telling him Mack Collins ratted me out. What a weasel.”
“He's up here too.”
Darren snapped his head around. “Collins is here?”
“Yes.” I started to say he was with an anxious Cherokee gaming commissioner, but I was afraid that might not be appropriate to mention to someone on the other side of the casino fight.
“Then I guess he's with Sandra and my dad.”
“Not that I saw.”
Darren pulled his eyes off the road a second time and studied me. “But they were all here last night?”
“Yes.”
Sirens wailed up the hollow, forcing Darren's attention back to his driving. He edged near the right ditch as two Cherokee patrol cars rushed by.
When we hit the blacktop, we simultaneously returned to cell coverage. My phone emitted a string of vibrations signaling multiple messages had tried to penetrate what was literally a dead zone. One was from Tommy Lee. Four were from Kevin Malone and had all been left within the past twenty minutes.
I highlighted the most recent and pressed play. “Barry, I don't know why you're not answering, but call me immediatelyâand I mean immediately.”
I pressed callback and Kevin answered on the first ring.
“Where are you?” He barked the words, his voice pitched high and tight.
“Headed with Darren Cransford to the Cherokee Police Station. Eddie Wolfe's been murdered.”
“Cransford killed him?”
“No.”
“What's your ETA?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“I can't meet you there. The casino's also out. Somewhere else.”
“There's Oconaluftee Islands Park,” I suggested.
“Good. I'll find it.”
I was surprised he didn't pepper me with questions about Wolfe. “Kevin, what's wrong?”
“I'll tell you when I see you.” And then he added in a low whisper, “I overplayed my hand.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. Those words from Kevin could mean only trouble with a capital T. Trouble that had to have started with whatever Kevin did in Frankie Tyrell's hotel room.
I accompanied Darren into the police station and made sure he connected with the duty sergeant. From the looks we received, the whole department was focused on Eddie Wolfe's murder.
When I stepped outside, it dawned on me that I'd either have to walk to the casino for my jeep or go directly to the park. I phoned Kevin.
“Where the hell are you now?”
“Just leaving the police station. I'm on foot.”
“Fine. Just another tourist. I'm on the island. There's a stand of giant bamboo with a path cut through it. Looks like I'm back in Southeast Asia. Come there and I'll find you.” He hung up.
I dialed Tommy Lee and started walking down the hill toward the park in the middle of the Oconaluftee River.
“Did you sleep in?” Tommy Lee asked, half-joking and half-annoyed.
“Eddie Wolfe was murdered early this morning.”
Silence. Then Tommy Lee calmly said, “Give me what's important.”
I highlighted the key points including the discovery of the fifteen thousand dollars and Jimmy Panther's missing collection of artifacts. Tommy Lee didn't interrupt.
When I finished, he said, “I want that soil sample from the construction site as soon as possible.”
“I'm going out with Romero this afternoon.”
“No. I'll get it myself. Then I want a sample from Eddie Wolfe's trunk and any dirt clinging to the artifacts. Have Romero prep it. Any word on that missing boy?”
“No. And Romero's worried. We've got two murders tied together and the kid might be in the middle.”
“Anything come of last night's poker game?”
I wanted to tell Tommy Lee about seeing Kevin enter Tyrell's room, but decided to stick with my promise, at least until Kevin and I talked in the park.
“Not really. Except Kevin taunted Tyrell at the card table. Called him a loser.”
“Good God. What's he playing at?”
“He's playing at drawing Tyrell out. Kevin thinks he killed his niece over eight years ago during a mob hit. Kevin wants Tyrell to come after him.”
Tommy Lee's sigh whistled in my ear. “I knew there was something like this going on.”
“You were right, but that doesn't negate the possibility that Tyrell was contracted for Panther.”
“But not Eddie Wolfe?” Tommy Lee asked.
“That's my take.”
“Are you going back to Wolfe's?”
“No. I'm meeting Kevin in a few minutes. Something's spooked him.”
“Barry, I can't say this forcefully enough. Watch yourself with Kevin. There's nobody I'd rather have guarding my back, but when it comes to a frontal charge, he makes General Custer look like a conservative tactician.”
“I'll be careful. You got anything for me?”
“Yes. Phone records came in this morning. Luther received a call on his home line from Sandra's cell at nine thirty on Sunday night just like he said. They talked for thirty minutes.”
“How about Darren?”
“Triangulation of cell towers that Sunday night show his calls came from the Kings Mountain area. He definitely didn't go back to DC. There are no calls after eight and no indication he returned to Gainesboro.”
“So, all the Cransfords were telling the truth.” Tommy Lee's information reminded me I'd forgotten to report Mack Collins' encounter with Frankie Tyrell. I gave him what few details I knew.
“Wayne saw this?” Tommy Lee sounded more astounded by Uncle Wayne's undercover work than Senator Collins' clash with Tyrell.
“Yes. It's something Archie cooked up, but Uncle Wayne claims the two men exchanged heated words.”
“I don't like that. Mack heads the state senate's Indian Affairs and he owns a company that does the big-ticket work that could benefit from casino construction.”
“I asked Melissa Bigham to go through the newspaper's morgue and any other source she might have for a link between Collins and Tyrell.”
“Let me know what she finds,” Tommy Lee urged. “If we have to question Mack, I want to be sure we're on solid ground. No, make that pure granite. Understood?”
“As they say on the cop shows, copy that.”
“Good. And next time let me know when you're going out of cell coverage for any length of time.”
“I wasn't expecting to find Eddie Wolfe's corpse.”
“And I'm sure Eddie wasn't expecting to be one. So take care.” He hung up.
I crossed the wooden footbridge onto Oconaluftee Islands Park. On a Wednesday morning in late September, few people were on the small strip of land. I saw a stand of towering bamboo bordering the far side. I didn't see Kevin.
The bamboo grew so thick the sunlight couldn't penetrate the leafy canopy. I stepped into the gloom and saw the glow of the path's exit a good two hundred feet away. The stalks were several inches in diameter. If used for Cherokee blowguns, they would be classified as bazookas.
Kevin didn't appear so I kept walking. The path became more of a tunnel. Halfway in, I saw sudden movement on my right. I stepped back and Kevin emerged from a small break in the stalks.
He looked up and down the path. Satisfied we were alone, he pulled a manila envelope from inside his windbreaker and removed a photograph. “Do you know who this is?”
The familiar face stared at me, eyes wide with terror, cheeks pinched from the duct tape pulled tightly across his mouth.
Kevin Malone had overplayed his hand.
And little Danny Swift had been caught in his deadly game.
“Where did you get this?” I demanded.
Kevin shook the photograph in my face. “Do you know the boy?”
“Yes. His name's Danny Swift. They call him Swifty and he was last seen Monday at noon. He's been missing nearly forty-eight hours. We think he witnessed something related to Panther's murder.”
Kevin grabbed a thick stalk of bamboo with his free hand and shook it like a prisoner trying to break out of his cell. “God damn it!”
His contagious anger set my heart racing. I shoved him with all my strength. “It's Tyrell, isn't it? You screwed with Tyrell and now he's got Danny.”
Kevin fell backwards, landing on his butt. The photograph and envelope fluttered to the ground beside him. At first he made an effort to get up, his hands balled into fists, his eyes flashing with fury. Then his face crumpled and he sat on the path, suddenly looking like an old man.
I stood over him. “What happened in that hotel room?”
“I didn't lie to you. I didn't plant any evidence, but I took a satchel I found tucked behind his suitcase in the closet. It must contain Tyrell's payment.”
“Full of hundreds?”
“Yes. One hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
Ten times what we found in Eddie Wolfe's Camaro. The reason for Kevin's “loser” taunt in the poker room became clear. Frankie Tyrell had just lost one hundred fifty thousand dollars and didn't know it. When he found the money missing, he'd come after Kevin. But Kevin hadn't counted on Tyrell matching the pot with a thirteen-year-old Cherokee boy.
How had Tyrell found Danny Swift? The connection had to be Eddie Wolfe. When Eddie learned Danny had Jimmy's ball-play stick, he was afraid Danny might know about Jimmy's salting scheme. More importantly, Danny could link Eddie to Jimmy and the artifacts. Either Eddie had found Danny hiding at Jimmy Panther's, or he'd intercepted the boy as he was returning home. Maybe Danny had come to Eddie with questions.
Multiple motives were at play. Eddie must have kept Danny in his trailer while he called for instructions. I didn't think that call went to Tyrell, but to whoever was paying both of them. That person could have silenced Eddie and abducted Danny Swift. Yet, Tyrell must have his own leverage over his employer if he was using the boy to get his money back from Kevin.
I picked up the photo and envelope. Kevin's name had been printed in block letters. “How'd you get this?”
“The envelope was dropped at the front desk. No one saw who left it. So I have no evidence it came from Tyrell.”
“It's as good as a ransom note. We have to take action.”
Kevin got to his feet. “I know. But if Tyrell even thinks I went near the police, he'll kill the boy.”
“You are the police.”
“I broke into his room. What legal standing do I have? Tyrell knows that and he's counting on me to deal with him.”
“He'll kill you and the boy.”
“And if I do nothing, he'll kill the boy for sure. This is my fault.”
“But it's not a one-man operation. You try this solo and you're guaranteeing disaster.”
Kevin paced up and down the narrow path. “I know. I've got to bring Tommy Lee in on this. But if his whole department or the FBI gets involved, then there are too many opportunities to spook Tyrell and sign this kid's death warrant.”
“Any conditions for how an exchange will be made?”
“No.” He pointed to the photograph in my hand. “That's all I got. I suspect he wants a reply in a similar manner. The fact that there's no deadline means immediately. Otherwise he'll cut his losses and move on.”
“Tyrell doesn't know me or Tommy Lee, but that doesn't mean someone else in the conspiracy wouldn't recognize us. We've got to keep our distance.”
Kevin threw up his hands. “I'm wide open to ideas. If people are already looking for the boy, then Tyrell will be careful how he transports him. He'll probably name a place close to if not the very spot where he's holding the kid.”
“Maybe. Or maybe we can make that work for us. He's banking Danny Swift is worth more to you than the money. But he also knows you're now a rogue. Like him, you're outside the law. So, our gamble is how much he thinks you'll risk, that risk being the conditions for the swap.”
“You mean if I think it's too risky, I'll walk away with his cash?”
“Yes. And because that's what Tyrell would do, he might not see it as a bluff.”
Kevin nodded. “You got a place in mind?”
I looked up at the sparkling pieces of blue sky appearing and disappearing as a breeze blew through the upper reaches of bamboo leaves. Then I eyed the pathway's entrances at each end of the long strip of heavy growth. Kevin and I stood about a hundred feet from either opening. When I turned back to him, he grinned.
“I'll be damned. You bastard. You're putting me back in the jungle.”
I shrugged. “If the Viet Cong couldn't kill you, what chance does Frankie Tyrell have?”
“When?”
“After dark. Two in the morning would be good. Tell him Danny's too hot to be shuttled around in the daylight. Say you don't want Danny to see you clearly because once he's free you're splitting.”
“All right. Let me work it out from this point.”
“No. We're making a plan together and we're following it. My neck's sticking out as much as yours.”
“What do you mean?”
I stepped into the small enclave in the bamboo from which Kevin had emerged. “Because I'm going to be in here covering you. The weather's clear and there's a full moon. Under this canopy the brightest spots will be the entrances. Each of you will see the other's silhouette. You'll be alone, he'll have Danny. Tell him to enter from the end near the Qualla Arts Center and the Museum of the Cherokee Indian. You'll come in first from the opposite entrance closer to the Cherokee Agency for Indian Affairs. You'll set down his satchel here. Tell him you'll leave a flashlight by it and then you'll back off twenty or thirty feet. Enough to make a pistol shot difficult. Then he comes in with Danny, checks the satchel and lets the boy walk to you. Everybody exits and nobody in the village sees a thing.”
“Except you grab Tyrell after Danny's safe.”
“And we'll have him for kidnapping. Where the ransom money came from will be irrelevant.”
Kevin looked skeptical. “You know he's going to check this place out ahead of time.”
“I'm counting on it. So you need to watch it as soon as you've left your response at the hotel desk. I'm sure he's watching you, so he won't be surprised you're watching him. I need you to let me know when he's cleared this location. It had better be no later than dusk.”
“OK,” Kevin said. “Where will you be in the meantime?”
“Trying to find out who's really behind all this.”
Kevin left the shelter of the bamboo first. From this point, we couldn't take the chance of being seen together. All communication would be through texting. I insisted on being the one to inform Tommy Lee and said I would contact Kevin if there were any changes to the plan.
The isolation of the bamboo was as private as any place I could find. Even the murmur of traffic on the roads running parallel to each bank of the river was muted by the rippling sound of running water. I leaned against a wall of stalks and dialed Tommy Lee's cell phone.
“What now?” he said.
“Tyrell's got Danny Swift.”
“Christ almighty. How'd that happen?”
I gave him a summary of Kevin's stunt to bring Tyrell after him. I neglected to mention I'd seen Kevin cracking the code to Tyrell's room lock. I would confess later, but at the moment I didn't need Tommy Lee second guessing my judgment.
“I don't like it,” he said. “Two in the morning is too isolated a time. Any backup will be more likely to be spotted.”
“And that's the reason Tyrell may go for it. We're balancing risks to keep him in the game. One hundred fifty thousand dollars is a big pot to walk away from, but Kevin's convinced Tyrell will do it if he thinks it's too risky.”
“What's the closest I could get?”
“Probably the parking lot of the Bureau of Indian Affairs. As long as it appeared empty, an official-looking vehicle could park there overnight.”
“How far is that?”
“Probably three hundred yards. We passed it when you missed the turn to the police station.”
Tommy Lee said nothing for a moment.
“This is about saving the boy,” I said. “I'll take the chance.”
“OK.” The sheriff must have spoken to himself because he said the word so softly I hardly heard him. He cleared his throat and raised his voice. “I'll borrow some kind of appropriate car. How's cell coverage there?”
“I'm calling from the middle of the bamboo stand.”
“Good. Then make sure your battery's fully charged. I'll phone you no later than one forty-five. We'll keep an open line because I want to hear everything.”
“All right. I'll be in place long before then.”
A car horn sounded through the phone. “Where are you headed?” I asked.
“To the casino construction site for those soil samples. Have you asked Romero to prep the ones from Eddie Wolfe's trunk and the artifacts?”
“No. I just finished with Kevin. I'll have to contact Romero through their dispatcher. He's probably still in the dead zone at Eddie's trailer.”
“Well, make it as soon as possible.”
I decided it was time to ask Tommy Lee what had been gnawing the back of my mind. “How much do you trust Romero?”
“What do you mean?”
“That second casino represents a lot of money, not only to vendors and contractors, but the Cherokee per capita payments. Every institution, every individual will be touched by the outcome of this controversy.”
“There's a difference between being touched and being corrupted. Hector Romero is a good cop. He's as solid as he looks.”
“Then that's all I need to know.” My phone beeped with an incoming call. Melissa Bigham's name flashed on the screen. “Gotta go. We'll talk later.” I switched over and said, “What have you got for me?”
“Well, hello to you too,” she said. “What have you got for me?”
“Nothing. But keep your phone by your bed tonight.”
Melissa eagerly jumped on my tease. “What's going down?”
“I can't tell you, but it's more than Panther's killer.”
“Then I'll sit in my car with the motor running.”
“I'm serious, Melissa. Not a hint to anyone that something's about to break. This is a heads-up only to you.”
“Should I hold the front page?” she asked.
“No. If it happens, it will be too late for your press run. I'm rewarding you in advance for whatever you're about to tell me.”
“First of all, I only got two hours of sleep last night after working the Internet and then working the phones this morning.”
“You were careful?”
Melissa laughed. “As careful as you can be and still be a reporter. I said I was doing a profile piece on one of our senior legislators. And that's what this might turn into if your investigation goes nowhere.”
I was getting stiff standing amid the bamboo and started walking to the police station. “Anything surface that looks unusual or questionable?”
“No hint of a scandal in Collins' elections or his conduct in the state senate. He's been careful to make sure his construction company goes through open bidding for any state contracts, and he doesn't bid on projects he supports in his own district.”
“What about the pending casino?”
“This morning I reached the chair of the senate committee overseeing roads and highways, figuring since that's Collins' primary business it would more likely fall under public scrutiny if tied to the road improvements around the new casino.”
“Who's that?”
“Senator Gerald Eckles,” Melissa said. “He's out of Wilmington representing several coastal counties and has no connection to the Cherokee. He gave the most pushback when I asked about Collins and state contracts related to the casino construction. He challenged the question as to being pertinent to a personality profile.”
“Was he defensive or just trying to write your story?”
Melissa thought a moment. “Neither. He was protective, either of Collins or their relationship. He told me the major road contracts were most likely going out of state and that Mack Collins hadn't bid on them. Eckles said Collins was supporting the second casino on its own merits and refused to be considered for any opportunity to benefit financially.”
I couldn't see how Mack Collins' position was any different than his general policy as Melissa first described it. “Sounds like he kept everything aboveboard.”
“Yes. But Eckles went to such great lengths to champion Collins' integrity that I wondered why he felt the need to go into such elaboration. Then Eckles said something that caught my ear. He said Collins won't even talk to the Department of Transportation about projects he knows the state legislature is funding. He keeps his North Carolina company at arm's length from any inside information he might have.”
“North Carolina company?”
“Yes,” Melissa said. “I thought that was odd too. So, for the last hour I've been researching any Internet links for Mack or Maxwell Collins to other construction companies. One of the paper's database subscriptions kicked up a Maxwell Collins in New Jersey thirty years ago.”
“He's from New Jersey. He told me himself.”
“Did he tell you he was indicted for a bid-rigging scandal?”
That stopped me right in the middle of the footbridge over the Oconaluftee River. “Our Mack Collins?”
“Yes. I saw the photo that ran in the Trenton newspaper. Definitely Mack, although he had to be no more than thirty-five.”