The Price of Beauty in Strawberry Land (24 page)

He was being clear.

“My apology to both of you.
 
I would not being doing my job without having at least paid you a visit. However, you have my assurance that neither the sheriff’s department or myself will bother you again. I might, however, take you up on some of that bait when this whole thing is over.”

“For that, Mr. Reno, you are welcome anytime.
 
Have good day and goodbye,” he said in a ‘matter-of-fact’ way.

I pointed the Ford toward Memphis and used a payphone in Brownsville to call Forrest Chaney and confirm our lunch appointment.

~

H
is secretary answered and said that Mr. Chaney would meet me at the Luau at noon for lunch.

A popular upscale restaurant, the Luau was located at 3135 Poplar Avenue – just across from White Station High School - a perfect spot for our meeting.

Mr. Forrest Chaney was a professional and polished man – just as I had expected.
 

Our lunch lasted the better part of two hours and I was headed back toward Humboldt by 2PM.
 
I decided to take the route through Jackson and drop by that house in Three Way – the one rented by Mr. Denny ‘Dude’ Smith.
 

Denny Smith and I had never talked, or met – I didn’t think.
 
In fact, I didn’t even know what he looked like.
 
My plan was to just observe, not initiate a formal introduction – at least just yet.

~

I
nvestigation, at least successful investigation, requires a lot of imagination. You can follow the part that doesn’t fit – in this case that would be Denny Smith – which is sometimes productive.
 
You can follow your instinct – which more times than not will get you in trouble.
 
Or you can follow the money – which is productive 99% of the time.

I kept asking myself, why would someone who owned a home in Olive Branch, Mississippi, be living in a rental house on Sandersbluff Road in this ‘no town’ named Three Way.
 
Only one answer made sense – money.
 
For some reason he was there for the money – I needed to find out what that reason was.

It wasn’t long before I got my first clue.

I drove past the house, turned around and parked at the top of the hill. Since there were no cars in the driveway, I would give it an hour before heading back into Humboldt – just to see what happened.

Denny ‘Dude’ Smith sure knew his cars.
 
In less than 20 minutes, he pulled into the driveway driving a 1957 Chevy Bel-Air.
 
Damn, I liked that car.

I
got my first good look at him as he walked from the car to the house – and it hit me like a board across the face.
 
Denny ‘Dude’ Smith was the guy with Mickey Campbell at the Country Club the night of the party.
 
He was the guy Nuddy didn’t know.
 

Now it was making more sense.
 
This piece, along with what Mr. Forrest Chaney had told me, was making this puzzle come together quickly.
 
I just needed a couple more pieces.

~

L
eroy’s cruiser was parked in front of the sheriff’s office. I needed to catch up on a few things and now was a good a time.

“Leroy, how did the interview go with Billy Vickers?” I asked.

“It didn’t.
 
He’s skipped – whereabouts unknown.
 
We’ve got the state police looking for him and his car.
 
Hopefully they’ll round him up before he does something stupid.”

“I hope so too, I’ve got a couple of questions I like to ask him,” I said rubbing my chin.

“You’re no virgin there.
 
I’ve got a lot of questions and the FBI probably have just as many as I do.”
 
Leroy hated to have other agencies do his work.
 
I know he was pissed.

“Did you guys ever get a match on the plaster tire tracks at the lake?”

Jeff answered for Leroy. “Yes sir we did.
 
You were right, it was Charlotte’s car that drove down that dirt road and parked.
 
There were other tracks that didn’t match anything we could find, but her car was definitely there.”

“Did you guys dust her car for prints?”

Leroy jumped back in. “Damn it Carson, you know we did.
 
We found four sets of prints, Charlotte, Travis Luckey, Billy Vickers and another set we could not match – could be from anybody and we obviously don’t know when any of the prints were made.
 
You got any ideas?”

“Maybe.
 
Would it possible for me to go upstairs and ask Travis a question?” I asked Leroy directly.

“No it would not.
 
Mickey Campbell is also up there and Brad Knuchols will be there as soon as Scotty gets him here from the hospital. And when I get my hands on Billy Vickers I intend to lock him up along with everybody else.
 
I don’t know what charge, but I’ll think of something.
 
However, if you have a question, I’ll bring him down later so he’s alone and ask him myself.
 
Will that work?” Leroy was playing hard ball.
 
The Billy Vickers thing really had him on edge.

“Yes, I guess it will have to work.”

“So – what question do you want me to ask Travis?”

“I want to know if Charlotte carried a baseball bat in her car for protection.
 
A lot of girls do, and since you didn’t find one in her car, maybe this could turn out to be our murder weapon.”

“Well Mr. Detective, if Travis used that baseball bat to kill Charlotte, do you think he will tell us about it?”

“No, I don’t.
 
But if his answer is yes, she did carry a bat, and he does tell you about it – what does that tell you about Travis?”

Both Leroy and Jeff looked at each other and then back at me.
 
Leroy spoke first, “I’m not sure, but I’m going to be interested in his answer.”

“Carson, do you think I should go out to the lake and take another look?
 
We didn’t find any bat the first time, but it wouldn’t hurt to try again,” Jeff said.

 
“If the bat is the murder weapon, I don’t think you’ll find it there.”

“Then where should we look?” Leroy asked.

“I don’t know yet – but I’m working on it.”

I told them both I was headed back to Chiefs and to please let me know what Travis had to say and when/if they caught up with Billy Vickers.

~

I
used the payphone outside Chiefs to call Larry Parker.
 
His update was a good one.
 
The grand jury would convene tomorrow and both police Chief Chuck Hutchinson and Shelby County Sheriff Carlton Scruggs had been placed on administrative leave.
 
Ex-mayor Brian Jeffers had been arrested along with his chief aide, Darlene Lassiter.
 
They were expected to make quick bail, but were also expected to be subpoenaed by the grand jury.
 
Current mayor Roger Thurbush had scheduled a news conference for tomorrow and announcement of his resignation was expected.

The investigation into the death of Barry ‘Butch’ Lassiter had been reopened with Bubba Knight and Bobby James named as ‘persons of interest’ in that case and also in the mysterious death of Watson and Amy Clark.
 
Larry also told me that Bubba and Bobby had been picked up at the horse track in Hot Springs, and were currently resting comfortably in a Shelby County jail cell.
 

There would certainly be more carnage when the grand jury started asking questions, but for now, I had Larry’s permission to return to Memphis from my extended fishing trip.
 
I was looking forward to doing that – I just needed to clear up this beauty queen murder first.

Next I phoned Monica with a summary of Larry’s update, and told her she could also return to Memphis without fear of being hassled by the press.
 
The grand jury might also want to talk with her, but she and I would discuss that when we both got back to town.

 
~

N
ickie had seen me arrive and already had a jack/coke waiting when I took my favorite stool at the bar.

“Ted Blaylock called for you,” she said.

“Great, let me call him back,” I started to get up.

“No, let me,” she interrupted. “He said to let him know when you showed up and he would stop by and share a drink with you.”

“That is terrific, I would be proud to buy Mr. Blaylock a drink – several if he would like.”

Nickie went to that impossible payphone over the jukebox and made a call.
 
She returned quickly and said he was on his way.

I looked over the crowd in Chiefs – most were regulars – here every night.
 
As I checked their faces, I wondered how many had known Charlotte Luckey?
 
I wondered how many knew she was dead and, better yet, how many cared?
 
I wondered if they had any different definition of beauty – one different from everyone else’s?
 
I doubted it.
 
I also doubted that they ever gave a thought to the price some pay for that beauty.
 
In most cases it’s a failed marriage, a destroyed family or a ruined career.
 
In Charlotte’s case it was the ultimate price – her life.

~

T
ed entered by the rear door and took the stool next to mine.

I greeted him, “Mr. Blaylock, it is a please to see you again.
 
I understand I will be allowed to buy you a drink – that would be both an honor and a pleasure.”

“Hell, Carson, I thought I was going to buy you a drink!
 
Why don’t we just have one and work out the financing later?
 
OK?”

“That’s a deal,” I said, then turned and yelled at Nickie. “You have a customer here that requires immediate attention.
 
Please get him whatever he enjoys.”

“Carson,” she snapped back. “Ted is not a customer, he’s family – there is a difference.”

“Oh really?
 
And what am I?” I asked.

 
“Stupid, you’re family too and you know it.
 
Let me get that drink – Vodka tonic for you Ted, if I remember correctly,” Nickie said heading behind the bar.

I immediately asked Ted, “I assume Phillip Chaney flew back in today.
 
Is that what you wanted to see me about?”

“Yep. And I’m not sure how you knew it – or if you knew it – but that airplane has been traveling some serious miles over the past few months.”

“Ted, I didn’t know it.
 
But, I suspected there was more than what I was seeing on the surface with Phillip Chaney. People lie for a reason, and usually that reason revolves around one of two things – women and money.
 
In his case, maybe both.
 
Tell me what you learned from the logs?”

“In the past 6 months that plane has made numerous short trips – which we knew.
 
But it also has made 12 very long trips – 1800 mile round trip flights – one almost every other week.”

“Could you determine the destination of these flights?” I asked.

“Not at first,” Ted said while scratching his head.
 
“I did know they were north to south and south to north.
 
I found a fuel receipt from Lufkin, Texas – which is about 450 air miles from Memphis – a safe fuel range for that plane.
 
For the 900 mile leg it would require at least one stop each way.”

“Interesting,” I frowned.
 
“You said 900 mile leg - then you did learn the destination – right?’

“Yep, on one of the flights last month the plane developed a carburetor problem, and it required a repair – which was, of course, in the log book.
 
Carson, this plane has been making two trips per month to an airport in Mexico – Ramiez, Mexico, to be exact.
 
I looked at the map – it’s just south and west of Brownsville, Texas.”

“Ted, if I thought it wouldn’t embarrass me and everyone in this bar, I would give you a hug.
 
That is the best piece of detective work I have seen in a long time.
 
If you ever want to be a detective, I’ve got a spot for you.
 
Excellent information!”