Class Conspiracy: A Hank Lancaster Mystery Read online

  He paused and sighed as if out of breath. “About three months ago on one of the winding roads in that county Harper either lost control of his car or was sideswiped. His car tumbled off the road, flipped over several times and came to rest after hitting a telephone pole. Harper died on impact.”

  “Any indications another driver hit him?” I asked.

  “A slight indication. I talked to the sheriff’s department. There was a dent on the right side of the car but there was also an empty beer bottle in the car and Harper had an elevated but not illegal amount of alcohol in his bloodstream. The investigator said he found no evidence that another car was involved in the collision. At first I was saddened but I assumed Harper’s death was an accident and nothing more. Several weeks later I called Mary Laurie, a woman who was also in my high school class but at that time her name was Mary Roddez. The woman who answered the call said, when I asked for Mary, “Haven’t you heard?’ I will never forget those three ominous words. The lady told me Mary drowned at a nearby lake. I was shaken by the news Mr. Lancaster; Mary was an exceptional swimmer. She was captain on the school’s swim team and was one of the best swimmers in the state. Mary was like a fish in the water.”

  “Even good swimmers can make a mistake or get a cramp and drown,” I said.

  “Not Mary. She was just too good and too natural in the water. If all else had failed she knew how to float for hours until help came for her.”

  I frowned. “Where did this happen?”

  “Cross Creek, North Carolina. Again, the police found no evidence of foul play. She went swimming late, an hour after sunset and there was no one else around. She leaves a husband but no children.”

  “Sometimes when a husband or wife die mysteriously the police question the spouse,” I said.

  “Her husband was in a late business meeting and has an alibi,” Bates said. “But from all indications it was a very happy marriage and I don’t think that he would do such a thing to her.”

  The man had done some investigating and I was tempted to ask what did he need me for?

  “Most recently back in Bay Tree County a man named Todd Hedly was murdered. Todd was a troublemaker in school and didn’t get any better after graduation. He had been in and out of prison and constantly in trouble with the law. He was a minor league drug trafficker. Police don’t think he was a major supplier in the county but he did buy and sell illegal drugs. It is believed his murder was a result of drug deal gone wrong.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “Lets just say I’m suspicious. The three seem unrelated but three deaths in a space of four months… Is that coincidental?”

  “It could be. Is there any connection between the three people, besides the fact they died recently?”

  He shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. Mary and Harper knew one another but I don’t think they were close friends. Todd didn’t hang around with either of them after high school so Mary and Harper were not part of his adult circle of friends.”

  “When you went to high school was there any scandal or crime or anything like that?”

  He started to say no but then closed his mouth. He frowned then shifted awkwardly in his chair.

  “I didn’t think of that. Now that I do there were criminal charges filed against two prominent boys but I don’t think they were connected to Mary or Harper and certainly not with Todd.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” I said.

  “The two boys were cousins and about midway through our senior year they had their 18th birthday. About two months after that they had an altercation with a Bay Tree police officer after he saw them drinking coming out of a local bar. He drove over, got out of his car and asked for ID’s, which neither gave. One swung at him and the other joined in. The policeman had abrasions and bruises all over his face by the time backup got to the bar. They hauled the two guys to jail. Tom Franklin was one of the boys and his father is a big rancher in the area and rich. His cousin Ender Pelham also had a father who was a rancher, but he’s passed away. The disturbance wouldn’t have been too bad except their lawyer put the two boys on the stand when it came to light in previous testimony that the two had been up in Ft. Drum, a small town about fifteen miles from Winter Springs. They both denied going into a bar and drinking anything before they drove back. The prosecuting attorney then called a Ft. Drum bartender to the stand as a rebuttal witness and he testified the two boys were in the bar and had drank several double whiskeys before they left. In fact he said he refused their last request for a drink. They got mad and cursed him on the way out, that’s one reason he remembered them, he said. The two boys were known at our high school and so almost every student was interested in the case. The state attorney filed perjury charges against both students, which infuriated their fathers, who had some political pull in the county. They did their best to get their sons off but that didn’t keep the rumors at the school from running wild. It was said that the state attorney was offered a half-million dollar bribe to let the boys off. There were rumors of a hit man hired to kill the prosecutor. Also rumors that the prosecutor said if Tom’s cousin – who was an incredibly good looking cheerleader – slept with him, he’d drop the charges. None of those tales turned out to be true. The state attorney stayed with a very hard line against the defendants. To him no one - not even a rich boy - can come into a courtroom, take the stand and knowingly lie to court officials. The defendants were sentenced to two years in the Florida State Prison but were released in sixteen months. It was believed that Tom was a changed man, not the cocky, arrogant rich kid anymore. He was prone to depression and…all laughter and arrogance had been beaten out of him in prison. I heard he was taking medication for a number of suicidal and mental issues. Ender however came out in better shape and although he was not the party animal he used to be, he became more reserved. Spending a lot of his time alone but kept out of trouble.”

  “But those two men had no connection to the three classmates who recently died?”

  “No, not to my knowledge. It’s a blind alley.”

  I jotted down a few more notes.

  “Laying it all out in black and white makes it seem, I guess, like three different incidents with no connection whatsoever.” He shook his head. “A clinical, detailed description seems to make the situation…innocuous. But I’m still…still worried about it.”

  I tapped the pen on the yellow pad.

  “I knew all the three people who have recently died. I wanted a more objective point of view, from a professional,” Bates said.

  I leaned back in my chair. One of my vices is a preference for Hoyo De Monterrey Double Corona Cigars. Yes, smoking is not a healthy habit but I try to limit myself to two a day. They’re thin and less than seven inches long, but smoking helps me to think. This was a case I was going to have to think about, so I flicked a match and held it to the tobacco.

  “Hope you don’t mind if I smoke,” I said.

  “It’s your office,” Bates said.

  I took a long puff and blew out gray smoke. “I have found there are three times when ideas come to me. Walking my dog, soaking in a hot tub or smoking this particular brand of cigar. You have given me something to think about, Mr. Bates.”

  He nodded. “Another one of my traits, Mr. Lancaster, is I am tenacious. When I get my teeth into a matter I don’t want to let go. I have gotten my teeth into this issue. I’m not ready to let go yet.”

  I took another long puff on the cigar then pointed with it although I was only pointing at air.

  “It seems to me you should. Let’s ignore Mr. Hedly’s case for a minute. Drug disagreements often turn violent. I see no reason to question the conclusion of the Bay Tree Sheriff. It is unusual to have two classmates die in a short period of time but I also think there’s no reason to question the official ruling of accidental death. Ms. Laurie may have been an excellent swimmer but even excellent swimmers can drown. Scuba divers are excellent swimmers but occasionally there’s an accident
and one drowns. If the two deaths you described were something other than accidents there is no evidence of it. I don’t usually tell potential clients that they should save their money but, unless you have some evidence, that would be my advice in this case.”

  I put the cigar on a large orange seashell ashtray I have on my desk.

  “Mr. Bates, for your theory to be correct, that the three deaths were murder and connected, there would have to be someone, probably also in your high school class, who is targeting classmates for murder. But there’s no motive for killing one classmate, much less three. There was no scandal or no crime committed by a group of your fellow students. Two of the people you describe were upstanding citizens of the community with no hint of dark secrets during their high school days either. Plus, they seemed to have lived normal, happy lives. It seems these are two tragic accidents occurring within a short period of time. Unfortunate, but not sinister or criminal.”

  I think Bates expected the bad news. He didn’t flinch nor did he even frown. He simply slipped his hand into his coat and brought his wallet and lifted out a wad of one hundred dollar bills. Then smiled.

  “I enjoy mystery books and television shows, even the older ones now in reruns. I have the complete DVD series of “The Rockford Files” at my house. I really liked James Garner in the role.”

  “So did I,” I said. “Old mystery and private detective shows are a guilty pleasure of mine. Garner is my favorite as Jim Rockford but I also really like the old “Peter Gunn” series. That’s realy old, but could any private detective have a better name than Peter Gunn?”

  Bates began counting the money. “In the “Rockford Files” series, originally, Rockford was a detective who investigated cold cases. Cases where the police had given up without finding the criminal or cases where people said no crime had occurred.”

  “Making an analogy, Mr. Bates?”

  He nodded. “Possibly. Please call me, Stephen.”

  “Call me Hank.”

  “Hank, in the Rockford series, the detective said his fee was two hundred dollars a day. If that was true back then I assume the going rate is about three hundred dollars today, or maybe even three hundred and fifty dollars.”

  One of my vices is not greed. I have an appreciation for money because life is easier if you have an ample supply of it. In earlier years I have gone from paycheck to paycheck, which is not a great existence. Life is better when you have a small, or large, amount of money in savings accounts and, if possible, investments. But I can resist greed. Even so, Bates counting his money did get my attention. I puffed on my cigar again.

  “Two different deaths in two different states, Hank. That would involve a good deal of travel and a good deal of time. The third death, the murder of Mr. Hedly, is basically cut and dried, but I’m willing to offer you thirty days employment at three hundred and fifty dollars a day. That adds up to ten thousand, five hundred dollars. Plus another two thousand dollars in expense money if you will look into the deaths of my classmates.”

  I must have looked astonished – because I was astonished. Bates kept talking.

  “I’m a teacher, a history teacher at the high school but my late father was in citrus and real estate. His father left him a small inheritance and Dad, bless his heart, left me a large inheritance. Most of the inheritance is collecting interest at a few local financial institutions so I don’t worry about money.”

  “Ten thousand five?” I said.

  “Yes. That’s my offer.”

  I nodded. “OK, but I must tell you again I think this is a wild goose chase. However for ten thousand dollars I will chase the flock for a while but I can’t promise anything.”

  “That’s fine. As long as you’re on the case.” He stood up, walked to my desk and placed the wad of money on it. “That’s only two thousand. I’ll give you a check for the rest. It won’t bounce.”

  “Never thought it would,” I said.

  I tapped the cigar’s ashes into the orange seashell. “Stephen, you are the most…unique client I have ever had.” I reached for the money. “But I’m glad you dropped by. My girlfriend is named Astrid. Thanks to you I will be taking her to the best restaurant in the city before I leave for North Carolina.”

  He smiled.

  After Bates left I slowly smoked my cigar and thought, for once, I had astonishing good fortune. If Stephen Bates – who I liked – wanted to waste his money I was very glad he picked me to waste it on. I opened my check book and wrote a thousand dollar check to the local Food Bank. The agency and the volunteers do amazing work. I always believed if you get a bit of good fortune you should pass it on.

  I picked up one cigar from the box and slipped it into my coat pocket before I left the office. I locked the door. I wouldn’t need any more clients, at least for a while.

  Astrid raised her wine glass at the oceanfront table at the Blue Inlet Restaurant, which many residents say is the finest restaurant in Sebastian Shores.

  “He gave you ten thousand dollars,” she said, a note of disbelief in her voice.

  “Actually a little bit more,” I said.

  “Who is this guy?”

  “One of our local high school teachers.”

  Astrid frowned. “I’m not sure that gives me confidence in our local school system.”

  “This sounds a bit strange but Stephen is a nice guy. He’s very intelligent, friendly, mystery buff and I’m sure he’s a good teacher. He’s out on this one limb and thinks someone is killing the graduates of his high school class. And he’s willing to pay me to investigate the deaths. It’s a harmless, if somewhat expensive, hobby.”

  A waitress strolled up and placed an appetizer plate before us. A dozen good-sized shrimp surrounded a white cup of red sauce.

  “Are you ready to order?” she asked.

  “I am. I’ll take the prime rib,” I said. “Mashed potatoes and corn as the side dishes.”

  “And you, ma’am?”

  “The Citrus Salmon, please,” Astrid said. “Is that still served with the Orange Chipotle Sauce?”

  “Yes, ma’am, unless you want something different.”

  “No, I like the sauce as is. Thank you.”

  Astrid drained her wine glass. “A little more wine. I think we’re celebrating tonight.”

  “Celebrating. That means you get a big tip,” I said with a wink.

  The blond waitress smiled. “Then whatever it is you’re celebrating I hope it works out well.”

  Within a minute she walked back with a wine bottle and refilled Astrid’s glass. Astrid forked a bit of green salad and looked at me.

  “So you’re going up to North Carolina?”

  “Yes, will probably leave about noon tomorrow.”

  “Flying?”

  “No, I don’t like waiting hours at an airport. I’ll be driving, besides I may need a car when I’m up in Cross Creek.”

  “You expect to find anything?”

  I shook my head. “Only a woman who accidently drowned.”

  “Did you tell Bates of your doubts?”

  “I did. I emphasized my doubts to him. He still wanted to hire me, Stephen….” I shook my head. “He seems to be a bit fixated on this but he’s not pathological. He admits the odds are long but he wants me to check it out, which I will do. If the woman died in an accident I will give him every piece of evidence the sheriff’s department has and every piece of evidence I can find to prove it was an accident. Maybe that will convince him and he’ll let go.”

  “Any chance the woman was actually murdered?”

  “One in a thousand. One in ten thousand actually,” I said.

  How long will you be gone?”

  “I think a couple of days should do it. Three days in North Carolina and another three days in Georgia to check out the other death. Travel time should be about a week, ten days. May take ten, twelve hours to get to Cross Creek. Leaving at noon tomorrow I’ll be breaking the trip into two days. I don’t want to spend twelve hours in a car, unless
you are in the passenger seat.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet,” she said.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  When I passed the city limits sign of Cross Creek, North Carolina it was five o’clock and I looked for a good motel. Thankfully, the city was home to a number of quality motels and several bed and breakfast shops. It was located in a scenic area of a scenic state. The town appeared to be a tourist magnet for both in-state and out-of-state folks. The city limits sign also told me Cross Creek was home to 8,527 happy people and one grouch. If there was only one grouch in the town I thought it must be a great place to live.

  The counter person at the Black Oak Motel gave me a pamphlet about the city and the county and wished a happy stay. I thanked him and then proceeded to my room which was first rate. The bed was ample and comfortable and the wide screen television got good reception. A desk in the corner had a pad of paper and a pamphlet informing me of all the shops and stores in Cross Creek and in Holly Oak County. I thought I would do some shopping and pick up a gift for Astrid but my first stop was going to be to the Holly Oak Sheriff’s Department. There appeared to be a couple of small lakes in the county but none in the town limits of Cross Creek, meaning Mary Laurie died in the county so the sheriff’s department would have jurisdiction in her case.

  I took off my coat, grabbed the ice bucket, walked down a corridor and filled it. When I returned to the room I opened a bottle of Ancient Age, and poured it into a plastic cup full of ice. Then I mixed in come Coke.