The Price of Beauty in Strawberry Land (8 page)

“Mr. Reno, if you want a room tonight, you might want to change your attitude.
 
I realize that we might not match the luxury you find in your ‘Peabody Hotel’, but we do offer some things our customers appreciate.
 
Besides, who are you kidding?
 
You’ve ‘honeymooned’ in our cabins on more than one occasion.
 
Fact?”

“That is a fact Mrs. Woodson. Now, can I get that Jack/Coke?”

“You canceling the martini order?”

“Yes, but only because you don’t have any olives,” I snapped.

“Can I surprise you?” she grinned.

“No, just the Jack/Coke please.”

I needed to make a call and would, of course, need to use the phone located outside.
 
Whatever idiot installed this payphone next to the jukebox had to have been drunk or crazy – probably both.
 
Nobody used that phone because nobody could HEAR while using that phone.
 
The jukebox only stopped playing when Nickie or Ronnie turned it off – which was never.
 
It probably has a thousand country songs already lined up for play.
 
People just keep putting money in it and wondering why their song isn’t playing next – it would take a week to cycle through and reach their selection.
 
No matter, they still keep dropping quarters and punching buttons.

I yelled across the bar. “Nickie, why don’t you do something about that damn jukebox?”

“Why, what’s wrong with it?” she yelled back.

“What’s wrong?
 
It plays all the time – it never stops.
 
24x7 unless you or Ronnie turn it off.
 
Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Nope, I like the music.
 
You don’t?”

“Forget it.
 
Get me the Jack/Coke.
 
I’ll be using the outside phone,” I said as I headed out the front door.

I caught Jack Logan still in his office and shared the information about my search for Alfred E. Dollar.

“You idiot,” he said. “You are going to get yourself hurt – these guys don’t play nice – and you know that.”

“Yes, I know that.
 
But, I have an idea he is either involved or knows something about the Bosley Buick operation.
 
Have you checked for any offshore connections to Charles and Carlon Bosley?”

“What?
 
You thinking ‘take the money and run’?”

“Well, with 2 million, you can live pretty good on some Caribbean island.”

“Okay, Carson, let me look into it.
 
Anything else?”

“Yes, I would like to visit with Kathy and/or Sam Ledbetter tomorrow.
 
Can you set that up?”

“Can do. I’ll call her tomorrow and tell her you will be calling. You need a phone number?”

“Yes, please.”

 
“686-5666, that is a Milan number,” Jack answered quickly.
 
“Stay in touch and let me know how your visit goes.
 
I’ve only got a couple of weeks before the preliminary hearing – so I need things to happen quickly, if they are going to happen.”

I said good-by to Jack and went in search of my Jack Daniel’s and Coke.
 
As I expected, Nickie had it exactly where it should be.

“Hey Nickie,” I yelled over the music. “What do you know about this party tomorrow night?”

“It is a big deal.
 
And I mean a BIG DEAL.
 
My cousin, Ted Blaylock, runs our little airport and they have hired him to keep it open - starting tomorrow all the way through Sunday afternoon.
 
Unheard of around here.”

“Really?” I said sipping my first Jack/Coke of the day.

“Yes. I also understand they have hired Charlie Rich to perform at the Country Club - and only the Lord knows what else is being planned.
 
This thing must be costing a fortune – good for our little community economy.
 
Make those ‘tight asses’ turn loose of some money – spend it here instead of Miami, New Orleans or somewhere else.”

“You seeing any benefits?”

“Probably will.
 
We’re booked solid and most of the names on the reservations I have never heard of.
 
They are coming from somewhere else – not from around here.”

“I know you and Ronnie are going.
 
Who’s handling Chiefs while you’re at the party?”

“Mr. Reno.
 
We are edging closer to another
‘Murder in Humboldt’
– and that would be your murder!
 
Now you know damn well that Ronnie and I will NOT be attending this affair.
 
First, we weren’t invited.
 
Second, while I could probably find something appropriate to wear, Ronnie would sure look stupid wearing his apron and jeans.
 
He could only wear – apron and jeans – because he has nothing else to wear.
 
That, and his birthday suit, are all I have seen him wear in the past 10 years.
 
So, if you want to keep your room and good grace while at Chiefs, I suggest you bring yourself back down to our level – where you belong.
 
Understood?”

“Yes, Mam,” I was getting on her bad side – a place I did not want to be.

I was still sipping on my first drink when this ‘oddly’ dressed guy walked in the door.
 
He was a big man and his dress just didn’t fit his actions or manner – jeans and a plaid shirt weren’t his style - this was a tailored suit and silk tie person.
 
It seemed, for some reason, he was ‘dressing down’ to perhaps blend in or avoid attention.
 
In my eyes, it did just the opposite.
 

He rented a room and quickly exited back through the front door.

“Who was that?” I asked Nickie when she walked back over.

“Register card says Brad Knuchols – Memphis, Tennessee.
 
You know him?”

“Looks familiar – but I’m not sure why.
 
Is he here for the party?”

“I can’t say, but suspect he is.
 
Made a reservation last week.
 
Two men - one room.
 
He’s in Cottage 5 – next to you.”

“Do me a favor.
 
Let me know who else checks in – strangers I mean.
 
Can you do that?”

“Probably go to jail for it – but I know a detective who can get me out of trouble.
 
Sure, I can do that.
 
You expecting trouble?”

“No, not at all.
 
But this guy doesn’t fit – somehow. Wonder who made up the guest list – any ideas?”

“None.
 
But I suspect that many of the town elite had a hand in who is and who isn’t invited. I understand some of the former Strawberry Queens and Hostess Princesses will be there with family and friends.
 
Maybe Mary Ellen is trying to get her son hitched – nothing surprises me anymore.”

I added one of Ronnie’s burgers to my next drink order and reminded myself that I really needed to eat better.
 
Burgers for every meal were not healthy.

Calling it a long day, I headed for my Cottage.
 
The car parked in front of Cottage 5 was a dark blue 1961 Chrysler with Memphis plates.
 
I wrote down the number – ‘1-4J745’ - with plans to have Leroy Epsee (Gibson County Sheriff) check on it later.

I unlocked my Cottage door and looked back at the cars that continued to endlessly circle Chiefs. As always, this would continue until the early hours of tomorrow morning.
 
But something unusual was in this traffic jam – it was a black Cadillac limo.
 
Chiefs didn’t see many limousines – tractors yes – limousines no!

It slowed in front of Cottage 5 and our Mr. Brad Knuchols exited his room and took a place in the back seat of the Caddy.

I watched as it continued to circle Chiefs and eventually exited onto 22
nd
Avenue headed North.
 
This was interesting, but considering tomorrow’s event, I was not surprised. Probably some advance security for the governor or other official.
 
I went to bed.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I
grabbed a quick breakfast, a coffee to go, a handful of dimes and settled in at the pay phone out front.

My first call was to the Gibson County Sheriff, Leroy Epsee – he, of course, was not in.
 
I did speak with Deputy Jeff Cole and asked him to tell Leroy I was in town and would like to buy him lunch, if possible.
 
He agreed to give him the message and suggested I call back sometime around noon.

My next call was to the number Jack had given me for Kathy and Sam Ledbetter – Kathy answered on the first ring.
 
Jack had already called - told her I was in town and would want to talk with her as soon as possible.
 
We agreed to meet this morning, and I should come right over.

I then called Captain Larry Parker to get an update - and see if he had been able to reach Bernie Taylor at the Commercial Appeal.
 
He wasn’t in, but dispatch said they would have him call – I never got that call.

The address for Kathy Ledbetter was 1227 Brianwood Cove.
 
The drive took less than half an hour and she met me on her porch with fresh coffee.

I estimated Kathy to be in her early 50’s.
 
Their home was nice, but modest – nothing fancy.
 
Sam was at work, so our only company was Tiger – her cat.
 
There was a later model Buick parked in the driveway, and what appeared to be an old work truck, parked in the back yard.
 
Nothing here seemed to indicate embezzlement or a misuse of money.
 
These were just plain ordinary folks, living in a plain ordinary small west Tennessee town.

With our coffee and Tiger, we settled in the front porch swing and Kathy began to tell her story.
 
It was the same as Jack had told me.
 
She knew nothing of any missing money and was alarmed when GMAC stormed in with an audit.
 
Kathy said that Charles and Carlon were also VERY alarmed when the audit was called, and then spent many hours behind closed doors talking with the auditors and among themselves.

“Kathy, tell me about Charles and Carlon. What do you know about them outside the workplace?” I asked when she finished.

“Mr. Reno, I don’t know a lot about them – really. Up until 6 months ago a son-in-law – Campbell Miller, basically ran the business.
 
He was my boss and totally responsible for day to day activities at the main dealership building and satellite lots in Dyer and Jackson.”

“What happened to Campbell Miller 6 months ago?”
 
Now I had another player.

“Early one morning Mr. Carlon Bosley came into my office and said that Campbell was no longer associated with the dealership, and that I would now be working for him. I never saw or heard from Campbell again – I never saw his name on any documents or any part of the business after that day – which seemed odd, based upon what I had heard.”

“A few weeks after Campbell left, I casually asked one of the salesmen if they knew what had happened to him.
 
He told me that Campbell was in the Cayman Islands working on a satellite dealership for Bosley Buick.
 
Now, first that sounded real stupid and second, if he were still associated with Bosley Buick, his name should appear somewhere on some documents – right?
 
I mean no payroll, no expense payments – nothing.”

“Did you ever discuss this with Carlon or Charles?” This was getting better by the minute.

“Never got the chance. I came in one morning and found a funeral reef hanging on the showroom door – along with an announcement of Campbell Miller’s death.
 
It seems he had been killed in an automobile accident while traveling out of the country. Carlon and Charles had already left the country to make arrangements for the body and were not expected to return for several days.”

“Weird,” I said.

 
“It gets worse,” she nodded.
 
“Two days after Carlon and Charles return, the audit is called. Two weeks after the audit, Leroy Epsee and two deputies show up at my door and arrest me for embezzlement.
 
I knew Jack Logan from my niece who lives in Memphis – I contacted him and here we are today.”

“Tell me about Carlon and Charles – personally.
 
What do you know about their family, lifestyle, habits etc?”
 

“Both divorced.
 
Actually I think Charles was a widow, his wife had died years ago. They both live well and I’m sure run in circles that Sam and I have never even thought of.
 
Campbell Miller had been married to Charles’s daughter – Annette.
 
However they had divorced several years ago and, as I understand, she remarried.
 
Oddly, I had never met her – seems even more odd now that I think of it.
 
Anyway, both Carlon and Charles are men about town and men about West Tennessee – rich bachelors attract a lot of attention – especially from women who want to be rich without having to earn it.
 
If you know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean.
 
Were there any women in particular that you remember?”

“Not really.
 
They were both always involved with activities surrounding the West Tennessee Strawberry Festival – usually with some former beauty queen driving around in one of their Bosley Buick convertibles.
 
I do recall the name Stephanie Malone being linked to Carlon.
 
She was a former Strawberry Queen, a Miss Something and who knows what else.
 
Never met her, just photos in the paper.”

We had finished the coffee and were wrapping up our conversation when a bright yellow 62 Buick pulled up in front of the house.
 
Out stepped a man I knew to be a car salesman – I promise I could spot them in any crowd.
 
Short sleeved white shirt with a thin tie and tie clip.
 
Pants that are always too long, don’t fit well and an oversized wallet in the back pocket.
 
 
Cigarettes in the shirt pocket, along with a couple of ink pens and business cards. They all looked just alike!

She introduced me to Jordan Bailey, a salesman with Bosley Buick, and he had stopped by to see how she was doing.

“I hope you are here to help Kathy, “ he said as we shook hands.
 
“We go way back to high school and I am just sick that anyone would ever think she could do something like this.”

“Mr. Bailey, we are certainly going to try and help.
 
I have told Kathy, and I can tell you, I don’t think she has anything to worry about.”

I said my good-byes and promised to call Kathy before I returned to Memphis.
 
This lady was no embezzler – I would bet my favorite hat on it!
 
Although I had not met Sam, I would imagine him to be a mirror of what I found with Kathy.
 
Something was really wrong here and I didn’t think it was going to take long to find out what that was.

~

I
had time to drop by Mom and Dad’s house before lunch and was hurriedly headed that way when I spotted that yellow Buick following me.
 
At Gibson, I pulled off the highway and parked in front of the tomato packing sheds next to the railroad tracks.
 
The Buick pulled up next to me and Jordan Bailey got out and walked up to my car.

I spoke first. “Mr. Bailey, if you wanted to talk we could have talked at Kathy’s – you didn’t need to follow me.”

“Yes I did, because I don’t want anyone to know we talked.”

“Who is anyone?” I asked, still sitting in my car.

“Never mind – just listen and don’t ask me questions – okay?”
 
He sounded serious; a much different person than I had met at Kathy’s earlier.

“No – it is not okay.
 
You can talk and I’ll listen.
 
But asking questions is what I do – so, you talk, but keep that in mind.”

“Kathy had nothing to do with the missing money – that will come out real soon.
 
The problem is that I know Carlon and Charles have their bags packed, and probably won’t be around when it does.”

“Oh really? Where are they going?”
 
I was now asking questions.

“I said no questions. I can only speculate where they are going, the Cayman Islands would be my guess. They’ve moved a lot of money there over the past few years and it looks like this program in Milan is coming to an end – soon.
 
Campbell had been down there putting things together when he had his accident – if it was an accident.
 
Carlon and Charles aren’t smart enough to keep it floating, which is why everything has gone downhill so quickly.
 
So work fast Mr. Detective – you don’t have much time.”

“What really happened to Campbell Miller?” I was trying.

“I said no questions.
 
Have a safe drive back to Humboldt and please help Kathy.
 
She and Sam are innocent," he said as he was walking back toward his car.

He got back in his yellow Buick and headed out the Milan highway.
 
I put the Ford back on Hwy 70 and pointed it toward Mom and Dad’s house.

M
other was full of news about everything that I really didn’t need to know.
 
Dad brought me up to date on his job with TVA – and I managed to keep the visit to less than an hour.
 

I used their phone to again call Leroy Epsee and see if he could have lunch.
 
Scotty Perry answered this time and said he could reach him on the radio.
 
I asked Scotty to have Leroy meet me at the Ramble Inn – he said he would.

My order of iced tea and small salad had just arrived when I saw Leroy’s cruiser pull into the parking lot.
 
By the time he finally got to my booth, I had already finished the salad – it must be an election year!
 
He spoke and said hello to everyone in the restaurant, before finally pointing himself toward me.

“I don’t count? I’m a voter too.” I was being a smart-ass.

“Not in this county – and if you try to vote here, I’ll arrest you.
 
Now, to what great favor do we owe this visit by Detective Carson Reno?
 
Wait, I know.
 
You are here for the big party tonight – right?”

“Well, sorta.
 
I’m also working on something for Jack.
 
He’s defending Kathy and Sam Ledbetter.
 
You familiar?”

“I should be – I arrested her – but only because the judge made me.
 
That simply made no sense and everyone knows it.
 
That lady and her husband have never stolen anything – I’ll stake my job on that.” He was as serious as I had ever seen him.

I told him about my visit with Kathy and my subsequent conversation with Jordan Bailey.
 
I then backtracked and told him about my conversations in Bemis and my search for Alfred E. Dollar.

He didn’t seem pleased. “Carson, you are an idiot.
 
Those guys play rough and I know you know what that means.
 
You could get hurt – permanently.”

“I know, but I’ve got an idea on how we can catch several rats with one big trap.
 
Do you work well with the Madison County Sheriff?”

“Sure.
 
What do you have in mind?”