Death Crashes the Party (22 page)

“Don't be too late getting back to relieve me, and I really do mean to relieve me,” she said. “There's one flaw with our surveillance post, and it's that the bathroom window doesn't look out onto the road.”

“Right. We're definitely going to need two people here to make the surveillance work,” I said. “Call me if you need to leave your post by the window, and I'll come right over.”

After supper, Larry Joe came with me to Di's place, and the three of us sat at the kitchen table, chatting, with one of us peering through the blinds at all times.

“You know, Di, it's probably not a bad idea for me to spend some time around here tonight,” Larry Joe said with a grin. “With Liv spending the whole night here a couple of times lately, your neighbor might get the idea that you two are more just than friends.”

“If Jake Robbins thought for one minute there was any girl-on-girl action happening over here, Dave would be arresting him as a Peeping Tom,” Di said.

At about ten o'clock, Larry Joe suggested that Di go on to bed to get some sleep and that I stretch out on the sofa and take a nap, while he manned surveillance for a couple of hours. I offered to make some coffee for him, but he was afraid it would keep him up later. Since he couldn't take time off from work just now—even on the weekend—we had decided he would take the first shift and then would go home and get a few hours' sleep before he left for the office.

Larry Joe awakened me at about 1:00 a.m. I went to the bedroom and woke up Di before he headed home, and took my post as the sentry by the window. Di and I swapped places a couple of times during the night. At about 6:00 a.m. Di put on a pot of coffee and made us some French toast. We took turns using the shower, and I put on the change of clothes I'd brought from home.

Ray finally came out of his lair and drove past at about 9:30 a.m. Di called Dave, who was driving an unmarked car for the day. A couple of hours later we saw Ray drive past. Ted, who had taken over surveillance duty from Dave, called to tell us he'd just seen Ray turn into the trailer park. Ray had gone to have breakfast at the diner, had gotten his hair cut at the barbershop, and had gone to the post office to check his P.O. box. Di relayed Ted's report, and we looked at each other, wondering if we could stand the excitement.

“He got a haircut,” I said hopefully. “Maybe that means he's planning to meet someone or go somewhere more exciting than the diner later on.”

At about half past noon Larry Joe phoned. He said he had planned to come by and see me at lunchtime, but felt like he should go by and check on his mom and dad.

“And the old coot's convinced we're hiding things from him about the business,” Larry Joe said. “I'm worried he'll have another heart attack if I don't go and calm him down.”

“Of course, honey. I'm sure Daddy Wayne is driving your mom crazy. She could do with some reinforcements.”

As the afternoon dragged on, our surveillance detail started to feel like high school detention. We both lost the energy to carry on a conversation.

Di was dealing another hand of gin rummy when I spotted Ray's truck.

“Our quarry is on the move,” I said.

Di phoned Dave, who simply said, “Thanks. I'll tell Ted,” before hanging up.

“Let's hope Ted catches Ray doing something more interesting than getting his hair cut,” I said just before laying down my cards and calling gin.

“Yeah, something as exciting as when Dave caught us in Ray's camper would be nice.”

“That was a rough night. But I can't help wondering if there was something helpful in that diary that we missed.”

“Surely, you're not suggesting that we steal it again?”

“No, of course not. I've already read it from cover to cover, anyway,” I said, sounding as cranky as someone who'd lost sleep and been cooped up all day. “I know the DNA shows Ray is not Darrell and Duane's dad. Still, I don't think everything in the diary is make-believe. I mean, it's most likely a mix of fact and fiction, telling a story through Duane's childlike eyes.”

“So, you think if we could sift fact from fiction, maybe we'd find clues.”

“Exactly. Some things just don't add up. Like, remember how Duane wrote in his diary that Ray had to hide when their mom dropped by the apartment?”

“Yeah. So?”

“I've been thinking about it, and I don't believe that part was fiction,” I said. “I mean, in his fantasy world, Duane had turned Ray into his long-lost dad. So wouldn't that fantasy world also include his mom and dad getting back together and all of them being one big happy family?”

“I suppose.”

“I don't remember his exact words, but Duane wrote something like he thought his mom had a right to know, but Ray and Darrell didn't want to get her involved with what was going on. But that doesn't make any sense. If she thought Ray was just one of their reenactment friends, he wouldn't need to hide. She'd have no way of guessing they were mixed up in dealing drugs just because she saw Ray in their apartment.”

“I don't follow,” Di said.

“We know from the DNA that Ray isn't their real dad, but what if he had actually convinced Duane and Darrell that he
was
their real father? Then he could tell them he had to hide because their mom would immediately recognize him, and they shouldn't put her in danger because of their drug involvement, and whatever it was that had kept him in hiding all these years while they thought that he was dead.”

“Only he knew that she wouldn't recognize him, because he's not who he was pretending to be,” Di mused.

“Exactly!”

“I want to be as excited about this as you are, but I still don't get it,” Di said.

“Don't you see? If he had scammed the boys into believing he was their real dad, he couldn't risk being seen by Tonya. Not because she would recognize him, but precisely because she
wouldn't
.”

“Oh, yeah, I get it. He told them that she would recognize him and that he wanted to protect her. But the truth is, he knew she wouldn't recognize him, and it would blow his cover and mess up the scam he was running on the Farrell brothers.”

“Right. If he bore any passing resemblance to their real father, that would be enough for the boys. They were just little kids when their dad went off to war. They knew what he looked like only through vague memories and maybe some faded photographs. But Tonya's a different story. She was a grown woman who was married to the man. She'd have known instantly that he wasn't their long-lost daddy.”

“I get that. But what would Ray get out of trying to make them believe that he was their father?”

“Making them believe he was their father and had been on the run for years—God knows what kind of story he made up to explain that—would have given him huge leverage to manipulate them,” I explained. “Here you have two guys who thought their daddy died more than a dozen years ago. Then, suddenly, he shows up, asking for their help. I imagine they would have done pretty much anything for him, and he used that to get them to smuggle drugs, and Lord knows what else, for him. He probably met them through reenacting and figured out how gullible they were, especially Duane, so he used that to his advantage. What I don't understand is why, after hiding from Tonya at the apartment, he would go to see her at her house that day I followed him.”

“Why not?” Di said, leaping up from her chair and pacing with excitement. “Assuming Duane and Darrell never told her about their back-from-the-dead father, he could just show up at her door as Ray Franklin, friend and mentor to her late sons. He must have some angle, though. I mean, if he was low enough to scam those boys into believing he was their daddy, he isn't going to call on their mama just to express condolences.”

“Oh, my God, Di, you're right. He may be afraid she knows something or that she'll figure out something when she sorts through her sons' belongings. We need to call Tonya and warn her about Ray. If we're on the right track about any of this diary stuff, she could be in real danger.”

I looked up the number for Rascal's Bar and Grill and gave them a call. The waitress who answered said Tonya was scheduled to be at work, but she hadn't shown up. She said she had been calling Tonya's cell but couldn't get through.

“That don't mean much,” the waitress said. “Cell phone reception is pretty bad out around her place. Still, it's not like her, not showing up for work.”

After she hung up I told Di, “I remember not being able to get my cell phone to work that day I was at Tonya's. We'd better drive out there and warn her about Ray while we have Ted keeping an eye on him. I have a feeling that we'll all be ready to drop this surveillance job by tomorrow morning, anyway. You should probably call Dave to let him know where we we'll be.”

The call to Dave went straight to voice mail, so Di called the dispatcher and left a message for the sheriff concerning our whereabouts. We jumped in Di's car and headed out of town.

“Oh my God, Di! ‘One lie too many,'” I said as Di stomped her foot on the accelerator. “That was the last entry in Duane's diary. Maybe Darrell found out that Ray was a phony. Maybe that was the lie. And maybe Ray killed them because of it.”

Chapter 30

Di and I barely talked during the drive out to Tonya's place, both of us preoccupied with thoughts of Ray. I did blurt out some profanities a couple of times as Di less than expertly negotiated the pothole-studded back roads of Delbert County at high speeds, bouncing us off our seats.

Di pulled into the driveway and slammed on the brakes. Tonya emerged from the house just as the two of us jumped out of the car with panicked looks on our faces.

“Tonya, thank God! Have you seen Ray Franklin recently?” I said.

“No,” she said with a puzzled look. “Why would I?”

“It's a long story, but you may be in danger.”

“From Ray?”

Di broke in, saying emphatically, “Tonya, do you have a friend you could stay with for a day or two? It really may not be safe for you to keep staying here on your own.”

“I suppose so,” Tonya said slowly. “Why don't you two come in the house and tell me what's going on while I throw a few clothes in a bag?”

We stepped inside the house and then followed Tonya into her bedroom and talked as she thumbed through her closet.

“So, are you saying the sheriff thinks Ray Franklin killed my boys?”

“He's definitely a suspect,” I said. “We're pretty sure Ray Franklin is not who he pretended to be. He may have deceived your sons into believing that he was their daddy, that their father wasn't really killed in Iraq.”

“We have reason to believe Darrell found out that Ray was lying—and Ray killed both of the boys because of it,” Di added.

“This is so hard to believe,” Tonya said. “I don't really know Ray, but both my boys spoke highly of him. What kind of evidence does the sheriff have?”

“Duane's diary indicates that the boys thought Ray was their father,” I said. “However, DNA tests prove Ray definitely is not their biological father. We think he scammed the boys into smuggling drugs for him through the trucking company with the ruse that they were helping their long-lost dad.”

“It's also possible that he was even involved in the murder at the storage facility,” Di added.

Tonya finished stuffing some clothes and toiletries into a small suitcase.

“We really should get going. We may not have a lot of time, and it's not safe here,” Di said.

Tonya picked up the suitcase, and we all turned toward the bedroom door, just in time to see Ray Franklin step out of the shadows in the hall and into the doorway, with a gun in his hand.

“That's a real in'eresting story, ladies. Unfortunately, sticking your noses where they don't belong can be real bad for your health. Let's step outside,” he said, stepping back and motioning us into the hallway with the gun.

When we got to the back door, he shoved me into Di, forcing us into the backyard. He told us to keep walking, and I could see the bed of his truck sticking out from behind a shed.

“You can't get away with this!” I said. “The sheriff knows we're here.”

“You really expect me to believe he'd let you two come out here if he thought there was any danger? Now, climb up into the back of the truck,” he growled.

Di and I both froze.

“Move it!” he shouted.

We looked at each other and slowly climbed up into the bed of the truck. When we turned to face him, we could see Tonya tiptoeing up behind Ray with an extended rifle in her hands.

“Okay, ladies . . . ,” Ray said with a sneer.

He started to say something else but was interrupted by a rifle blast to the back. His eyes went glassy and blood gurgled from a the corner of his mouth before he fell limply to the ground.

Horrified, but relieved, Di and I jumped down from the truck bed. But as we started walking toward Tonya, our relief quickly turned to dread when she raised the rifle and pointed the barrel squarely at us.

“You were right, girls. It's not safe here,” Tonya said with a wicked smile.

“I—I don't understand . . . how,” I stammered.

“I understand,” Di said. “You helped Ray convince Darrell and Duane he was their long-lost daddy. Of course! The sheriff said Ray didn't even serve with their dad. He couldn't have pulled off the deception without your help. You gave him the photo of them as kids and the postcard they had written to their dad—everything he needed to persuade two gullible boys their father was still alive.”

“How could you do that to your own sons?” I said, still reeling with disbelief.

“What do you know about it!” Tonya shouted, her eyes wide with rage. “I was seventeen when I got pregnant with Darrell. Bobby joined the army to support us. It was tight early on, but he made it through training, got promoted. Then he got sent to Iraq. We figured once he finished his tour, he'd get another promotion and we'd get stationed somewhere—maybe even get to see some of the world. Instead, I was a widow at twenty-three.” Tears streaked her cheeks, but Tonya's face was still twisted in anger.

“That must've been real hard on you, being left to raise two little boys by yourself at such a young age,” Di said, sounding sympathetic. I surmised that she was trying to keep Tonya talking, trying to keep her calm—hoping to keep her from pulling that trigger.

“You have no idea what it was like,” Tonya said in a shrill voice. “I went from having a future to having nothing. I worked day and night to put food on the table and had to move in here with my grandmother. The price of keeping a roof over our heads was me being her slave. I not only worked at the bar, but I had to do the laundry and the cooking and the cleaning around here. I would have run off with just about any man to get away from her. But do you think any guy would take on a widow with two kids? Not for anything more than a one-night stand, I can tell you that.”

My head told me I should follow Di's lead and try to humor Tonya, but my big mouth impulsively blurted out, “But your sons. It wasn't their fault.” I immediately knew I'd made a big mistake.

Tonya steadied the rifle and walked toward us with slow, deliberate steps. We both froze. When she got to within inches of us, she suddenly lifted the rifle, pivoted the barrel over her shoulder, and slammed the rifle stock into the side of Di's head, knocking her to the ground. I looked down at Di, and before I could blink, Tonya had the rifle against my head. I could feel the edge of the cold metal pressing against my temple. A sudden wave of nausea washed over me, and I thought for a moment my knees would buckle.

“You don't have kids, do you?” she said, pushing the rifle hard against my skull.

I moved my lips, but no sound came out. I shook my head slightly.

“They worshipped their grandmother, who badmouthed me to them nonstop. And they whined about missing their daddy. How could they miss somebody they could barely remember? They treated me like the maid. The last time either one of them cared enough to give me a card for Mother's Day was when Duane brought one home for me that he'd made at school.

“The past two years things began to look up for me. First, that old biddy finally died and left me this house. Next, Darrell got a job, and I told him to move out and take his half-witted brother with him. Then I met Ray. Me and Ray had a chance to be happy together, if we could just get some money. He was doing some thieving and some penny-ante drug stuff and said he could parlay that into some big money if I could get my boys to move drugs through the trucking company. I knew they wouldn't do shit for me. But they'd do anything for their dead daddy.”

“I understand,” I said mildly, following Di's lead to try to calm Tonya down. “You were just trying to make some money. You never meant for anyone to get killed.”

“Move,” she said, jerking the gun to the right. “Just inside that shed, there's some rope. Pick it up and toss it over to me.”

I did just as she told me.

“It's too bad the sheriff caught on to Ray. I guess I'll just have to figure out a way to spend all that money by myself. Now, grab Ray by the legs, drag him into the shed, and shut the door.”

It took every ounce of my strength, fueled by a will to survive, to drag Ray's dead weight across the rutted dirt and into the shed.

“Now, take this rope and tie your friend up real tight.”

“But I—I—I . . .”

“If you don't tie her up, I'll have no choice but to put a bullet through her head.”

Fortunately, I could feel that Di was still breathing as I tied her up. Then I grabbed her under the arms and pulled her onto the back floorboard of Tonya's car, as Tonya instructed me to do. She tossed me the keys and told me to get into the driver's seat, while she climbed into the backseat.

“Now, you drive real careful exactly where I tell you. I've got this rifle barrel right up against your friend's head. You try anything stupid, and I'll blow her brains out.”

As the sun sank into darkness, we snaked our way along back roads for over an hour. I was desperately trying to think of some way to get out of this alive. I decided if I saw a police vehicle of any kind, I was going to lay on the horn and swerve into the side of the car. Of course, you can never find a cop when you need one. In fact, we passed only two or three cars during the whole trip. I thought about running the car into one of them, but I figured I'd just end up getting some other innocent person killed.

The silence was maddening.

“Tonya, what happened?”

“I don't think I owe you any explanations. If you two had minded your own business, you wouldn't be in this situation.”

I figured she wouldn't shoot me while I was driving, so I pressed my luck.

“Look, you plan to kill us, anyway. How did Darrell and Duane end up dead? I'm sure that wasn't the way you planned for things to turn out.”

“No. Nobody had to die. But the boys started to get nervous when that idiot Bobo kept ramping up the delivery schedule. Darrell, who was never better than a C student, started to figure things out. He came by the house to ask me some questions and heard someone slipping out the kitchen door. He ran after him and discovered Ray. Darrell told him he was going to the cops. They started fighting. I panicked. I just grabbed the rifle and shot Darrell without thinking. After I fired the shot, I dropped to my knees, crying, and Ray lifted the gun from my hands.

“I didn't know Darrell had left Duane waiting in the car. But when he heard the shot, he came running around the side of the house, wearing that ridiculous uniform, still playing soldier, like a little kid. When Duane saw Ray standing over me with the gun, he yelled, ‘Don't you hurt my mama!' and started running toward us. Ray raised the rifle and put a bullet through him. I couldn't believe that slow-witted fool actually tried to defend me. . . .” She sniffled as her voice trailed off.

I continued to drive, half dazed, with no idea where we were at or where we were going. When Tonya instructed me to turn onto Highway 22, I finally figured out where we were. We were near the Shiloh park and battlefield.

Please, God, let there be a park ranger out on patrol
, I prayed silently.

We drove slowly along the winding park roads until Tonya instructed me to pull down a dirt road that disappeared into the woods, which were devoid of light but were filled with the sounds of owls and cicadas and crickets and unknown animals snapping twigs and crunching leaves as they moved through the forest. Still, I would have felt safer with anything in those dark woods than I did with Tonya. And I would have taken my chances and made a run for it if Tonya didn't have that rifle pressed against Di's head.

If I had any muscles, I would have tried to wrestle the rifle away from Tonya. I wished I had joined a gym. I wished I'd taken a karate class. I wished I could see Larry Joe just one more time.

Di moaned a little as I pulled her from the car. At least I knew for sure she was still alive. Tonya told me to drag Di over a rise into a small moonlit clearing. I complied and she followed us, keeping a tight grip on the rifle.

When the ground flattened out, Tonya said, “That's far enough.”

“Tonya,” I said hoarsely. “You don't have to do this.”

“Shut up. You're done talking. You ladies are standing on hallowed ground. You may remember, if you ever took a school field trip to Shiloh, that this right here is the area known as the Hornet's Nest. About six thousand Union soldiers fought desperately to defend a line here. There were heavy casualties, and the Confederate troops eventually captured the Hornet's Nest, taking more than two thousand Yankees prisoner. You two are about to become part of history.

“I know this place looks pretty deserted. But starting tomorrow afternoon, trucks and vans filled with pretend soldiers will descend on Shiloh and start setting up camp. And on Saturday even more cars and trucks will show up, with people coming to watch. And when those fake bullets start flying and Union soldiers start retreating over that hill, they'll find you two here, plugged with very real bullets.”