STATE OF BETRAYAL: A Virgil Jones Mystery (Detective Virgil Jones Mystery Series Book 2) (13 page)

“It’s the only way, Virgil,” Bell
said. “The toxins you’ve been putting into your body have to be drawn out.
That’s what your liver does. The liver is the second largest organ in your
body. Its main job is to filter the blood coming from the digestive tract before
passing it to the rest of your system. In other words, it detoxifies chemicals
and metabolizes drugs. You know what really fascinates me? It does so at the
rate of almost fifteen-hundred liters of blood per day.”

“Can’t I just drink the coffee?”

Bell shook his head. “It’s not the
same. It just doesn’t work that way. If you drink the coffee, by the time it
goes through your stomach and the digestive process, the benefits of the
chemical compounds are lost. You’ve got to get the coffee directly to the
liver.”

Virgil had heard of coffee enemas
before, but had always suspected that they were the product of quackery, a
deception perpetrated on the uneducated or the uninsured as a last ditch effort
to maintain some semblance of health and well being. “How long would I have to
do this?”

“Twice a day, morning and night, but
only for another two days,” Bell said.

“What do you mean by
another
two days?”

“You’ve had them now for three
days. You know, while you were under…”

Virgil looked at Sandy, then put
his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

16

__________

L
ater
in the day, after assurances to both Sandy and Bell that he would stay on his
schedule, Virgil went down to the bar. Murton was seated at one of the tables
and Delroy was busy rearranging things to make room for the two new juicers
he’d purchased. Virgil sat down with Murton and suddenly realized, other than
boredom, there was no real reason for him to be at the bar. They were fully
staffed, he wasn’t on the schedule and Delroy and Robert had a handle on the
day-to-day operations. For the first time in his adult life, Virgil felt like
he didn’t quite belong…anywhere.

“I’m not really sure what I should
be doing,” he told Murton. “I mean, this is my bar, but it has always been sort
of a backup plan for me. You know, something to do when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you retired now?” Murton
asked.

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

Murton kept glancing at the clock
behind the bar. “You know what I think you should do?”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“I think you should go into
business with me. I could use a partner and you’re the best investigator I’ve
ever met. We’d be unstoppable.”

Virgil tried to keep his face
neutral. “Ah, Murt. I don’t know…”

“No, no, just think about it for a
second, will you? Here’s the way I see it.” He started ticking points off on
his fingers. “One, we know everything there is to know about each other, so in
that regard, we’d work well together. Hell, we already
are
working
together right here at the bar. Two, if you were to examine the situation, you’d
find that you are in the unfortunate position of what most anyone at all would
refer to as limited employment opportunities. Three, I don’t have a drug policy…”

“Hey...”

“Relax, Jonesy, I’m just fucking
with you. I actually do have a drug policy. Anyway, four, a P.I. badge is
bigger and shinier than that little state badge you used to carry around. So
what do you say? Wheeler and Jones Investigations. Has a nice ring to it, don’t
you think?”

“I don’t think so, Murt. Thanks
just the same, but I think I’ll take a pass.”

“What? How can you turn down an
offer like that? We’d have this city cleaned up in no time.” He was serious.

“Oh yeah? How exactly would that
work? Hold on, let me guess. We sit around here and wait for clients to walk
through the door who want to hire a couple of bartenders?”

He wagged his finger back and forth.
“Wrong. Not bartenders. Bar
owners
. Bar owners who used to be
cops
.
We’d have them lined up and waiting.”

Virgil chuckled for a few seconds.
“Let me ask you this, how many clients do you have lined up and waiting?”

Murton sort of shrugged. “Hell
Jonesy, I’m just getting started. But once the word gets out we’ll have to beat
them back with a stick.”

“How many?” he asked again.

“You mean right now, at this very
moment?”

“Yes, I mean right now, Murt, at
this very moment.”

Murton did two things just then. He
pushed one of the chairs out from under the table with his leg, then picked up
his mug of coffee and blew the steam away from the top of the cup. As he did,
an attractive young woman walked up to their table and sat down in the chair.
She addressed her question to Murton, who to his credit—or perhaps his
salesmanship—never took his eyes off of Virgil.

“Are you Murton Wheeler?” the young
lady asked. “That nice Jamaican man behind the bar said you were. My name is
Nichole Pope. I need your help.”

Virgil looked at Nichole Pope, the
grown daughter of the man he’d shot and killed over twenty years ago, then
looked back at Murton. “Are there benefits?”

“Nope. And the pay sucks too. In
fact, after expenses there probably won’t be anything left over at all.”

 “Then I’ll take it.” Virgil
looked at Nichole Pope then pointed across the table. “He’s Murton Wheeler. I’m
his partner. How may we help you, young lady?”

__________

Hendricks County
is home to the Indiana
Law Enforcement Academy, where Sandy works. Over the years as a state cop,
first as a trooper, then an investigator, Virgil had built up any number of
relationships with different county sheriffs and patrol officers, particularly
the ones close to Indy. Nichole Pope hadn’t even answered his question when
Virgil noticed Hendricks County Sheriff Jerry Powell walk into the bar. He was
in uniform, so Virgil knew right away he was not there to eat or drink. “Excuse
me for just a moment,” Virgil said to Murton and Nichole. He walked away from
the table and met Sheriff Powell in the middle of the room. “Jerry, what is it?
Is Sandy okay?”

The Powell looked at him in
confusion before he put it together. “Ah, Jesus, Jonesy, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean
to scare you. I should have called first. Sandy’s fine. Haven’t seen her in
quite some time, now that you mention it. How’s she doing, anyway? Hey no
disrespect, but if I were twenty years younger…”

Virgil exhaled noticeably. “Come
on, Jerry, have a seat at the bar with me for a minute.”

Powell slid onto a barstool, his
gun belt squeaking in protest as he did. He removed his Smokey the Bear hat,
set it crown down on the bar top, looked at Virgil and said, “You okay? You
look sort of pale.”

“No, I’m fine,” Virgil said, frowning
at the contradiction of his own statement. “What’s up?”

“I was going to call you at your
office and put in an official request…”

“A request for what?”

“Got a little arson problem.
Different spots, but we’re mostly getting hit in Plainfield and Danville. Was
sort of hoping you could take a peek and see what you could see.”

Virgil watched in the mirror behind
the bar as Nichole Pope stood from her seat and made her way to the restroom.
He turned his attention back to the sheriff. “What’s the state’s arson
inspector say?”

Sheriff Powell dropped his eyelids
a fraction. “He says its arson.”

“Sounds like he knows what he’s
talking about then.”

“Oh come on, Jonesy. You know those
guys don’t do anything except determine cause and half the damned time they’re
wrong about that. They all think they’re Quincy or something but the truth of
it is, they come in, sniff a few wires, cut a deal with the insurance company
and call it a day. I need someone who can find these punks and put a stop to
it.”

“Quincy? Jesus, Jerry, how old are
you?”

“Still young enough to kick your
butt.”

“Hmm. You may be right about that. Look,
Jerry, maybe you haven’t heard, but the thing is—”

Powell’s laugh cut him short.
“Maybe I haven’t heard? You’re kidding right? Half the criminals in the state
are celebrating as we speak. I said I was going to call you at your office, but
I knew you wouldn’t be there. That’s why I drove down. The county wants to hire
you and Wheeler to catch these guys. Word is, you two have started your own
shop. A retired fed and an ex-state investigator? When it comes to getting new
clients you guys will be beating them back with a stick. I figured I better get
you while the gettin’s good.” He put out his hand to shake. “If you can come
over to my office tomorrow you can review the files and we’ll work out the
details and budget and so on and so forth. What do you say?”

Virgil shook his hand, but said,
“Let me call you in the morning, if that’s okay.”

He nodded, picked up his hat and
stood from his seat. “Fair enough. My best to Sandy. Talk to you tomorrow.”

He started to walk away, but before
he got too far, Virgil said, “Hey, Jerry?”

He turned back. “Yeah?”

“Which half?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said half the criminals in the
state are celebrating. Which half?”

The sheriff set his hat squarely on
his head and checked its placement in the bar mirror before he answered. “The
smart ones,” he said to his own reflection. “I’ll be expecting your call,
Jonesy.”

When Virgil turned around, Murton
was staring at him, the grin on his face as wide as ever.

__________

Nichole Pope told them
about
her brother, Nicky and how
the police had, in her opinion, all but given up on catching his killer. “I
don’t know if it’s because they don’t have a body, or if it’s because they don’t
have any evidence, or if it’s something else entirely. But I do know this,
they’ve made exactly no progress and I’m tired of waiting.”

“There’s something you should know,
Ms. Pope, before we go any further,” Virgil said. He never got a chance to
finish.

“I know who you are, Detective. It
was a long time ago. You didn’t kill my father. He got himself killed. The
choices he made…I’m speaking of the choices in that moment…they were his own.
He got a raw deal out of life and it ended badly, but the responsibility was on
him. I don’t see how anyone, especially you, Detective, could possibly see it
any differently.”

“Still, I’d like to apologize for
what happened. And it’s not ‘detective’ anymore. I’m no longer with the state
police.”

Virgil’s revelation didn’t seem to
surprise her. “I accept your apology and with your permission we’ll not speak
of the incident again.”

Virgil knew full well the reason he
was alive today was because of the sacrifice Sandy’s father had made on his behalf.
The costs associated with Chief Small’s actions were enormous, not only for him,
but for Sandy as well. Because of Virgil, Sandy grew up without a father.

Though Virgil had always done his
best to rationalize that the death of James Pope was not his fault, the fact
remained that he was the one who pulled the trigger. Could he have responded
differently to that call? He just didn’t know. Further, he didn’t know if
anyone else would have either. Fate played a major role in the events of that
day. Had Virgil been closer when the call came in it stood to reason that he
would have gotten there sooner and prevented the escalation of events, thus
saving Pope instead of killing him. Virgil did know however that the burden he
carried over the death of Sandy’s father was one that would remain with him
forever. Was it not then reasonable to assume that the death of James Pope by
Virgil’s own hand could have been a portent of things yet to come? Were the
consequences he would have to face as a result of his own actions some sort of destiny?
He simply didn’t know. “I took your father from you. You grew up…”

“Detective…I’m sorry, Mr. Jones…”

“Please, just call me Jonesy.”

“Very well then. Jonesy.” She
reached across the table and placed her hand on top of his and Virgil could
feel a slight tremble in her touch. “His path was set the minute he got
together with my mother. They just weren’t right for each other. She drove him
crazy and I’m sure he did the same to her. They were wrong for each other and
I’ll tell you what else, they were wrong for us. My struggle for all these
years has been to try to balance the fact that I am both of them together. I am
half my mom and half my dad. I am in fact, the sum of two parts that never quite
fit together. My parents weren’t bad people, they were just bad together. Do
you know what that kind of thing does to your emotional state, especially as a
young child?”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Then I’m happy for you. I really
am. But let me tell you something, no matter the struggles my brother and I had
to endure, we made it. We somehow managed to survive and do well for ourselves.
Our mother passed when we weren’t yet legal adults but we have been taking care
of each other ever since. If you hadn’t shot…” She cut herself off, visibly
swallowed and then started over. “Had my father not made the choices he made
that terrible day, had Nicky and I not been there to see it…had he survived, I
think things would be very different for all of us, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m sure they would. But you
have to understand, even as we sit here right now, for me, it’s like time has stopped.
You will always be that five-year-old girl who watched me shoot her father to
death. I don’t know how I could possibly put that aside to help you now.”

“Maybe the way to do that, Jonesy,
is to consider it a form of repayment. Let the death of my father go by helping
me catch my brother’s killer. Can you do that?”

“I had a very good man tell me not
long ago that no one ever gets to turn the lights back on and replay the last
inning. I think he’s right.”

“Would that man’s name be Murton
Wheeler?” she said.

Virgil looked over at Murton. Clearly
Nichole Pope was not one to be underestimated.

__________

What exactly would you
like
us to do Nichole?” Murton asked.

“I’d like you to bring my brother’s
killer to justice.”

“So even without a body, the police
have told you your brother is dead?” Virgil asked.

He lower lip trembled when she
spoke. “Yes. They say there’s no doubt. They’ve taken random samples of the
blood from his apartment and matched it against my own. Every single sample
they’ve taken is a perfect match. It’s his blood. All of it. He’s gone. I’ll
pay you whatever you require, but please, find out who did this, won’t you? The
police—I’ve been dealing with a Detective Miles—are saying that
without a body, no matter the amount of blood, there isn’t anything they can
really do. Quite honestly, I don’t think they’re trying all that hard. You’ve
got to help me. Please.”

Virgil started to say something,
but Murton beat him to the punch. “What makes you think they’re not trying very
hard?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have put it that
way. It’s probably not a question of effort. In fact, I think they’re trying
extremely hard. I just don’t think they have any idea what’s going on. I mean,
how could they? I was closer to Nicky than anybody in the entire world and I
don’t have a clue.”