Centuries Ch. 01

"Yep." said Cindy. "And he didn't send Teresa with us, so that she wouldn't have to bear the pain of it all any worse than she has already..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We gathered at the house Teresa had rented. I checked thoroughly for bugs... and found some. So we didn't talk about the case at all; instead, we talked about where to have dinner.

"There's the Diner, which is decent," said Teresa, "and there's a Country Music bar and restaurant."

"Hey, country music!" Cindy said.

"And likely a place where a fight will quickly break out." I replied. "And I've had enough fun for one day."

"You know," Teresa said, "I could've handled Kenny and his slugs."

"I know." I said. "But those bastards were looking to shoot you, not fight you. So I ambushed them. Left my calling card, so to speak."

Cindy was on the phone, and a moment later she said "The Country Music place is divided in two; the bar and the restaurant. And the restaurant has a back room, and a big back table with a table for eight. I made the reservation..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was not too bad, I thought to myself. The bar was seedy, with peanuts and sawdust on the floor, and what looked like a rough crowd of men that didn't have a lot of hope, and women that offered to help them ease their pain... for a price, of course.

The restaurant side was better, but not by a heck of a lot. We were seated in the back room at the back table by a young woman that was trying hard to be friendly and helpful, in hope of a big tip from this rare large party of strangers.

"Shame about Mildred." said Muscone when I told her she had died. "She was a nice old lady."

"I'm not sure the schoolchildren of this town would agree with you." I said. "I had the feeling she was pretty strict... which is what the kids here needed even if they didn't like it. But she was helpful to us."

"By the way," Muscone said, even more quietly, "Sheriff Griswold found what you asked him to look for. You were right."

"That's one more small piece of this puzzle." I said. "Okay, let me check for bugs."

I checked for bugs around the table, and found none. After we'd ordered, I said "So... let's figure out what's going on, here. Who wants to start?"

"I will." said Teresa. "I believe my mother's headstone was destroyed to get me to come out here. I don't know why yet, and I don't know why they felt they had to beat up Chief Bennett and send a pic from his iPhone to do that. The Police would've called me."

"I agree." I said. "One thing is obvious, also: the Police here are not dirty."

"Not that I don't agree," growled Griswold, "but how can you tell?"

"They suddenly constitute Deputies and schedule a Sheriff election after... what did Teresa say... 20 years?" I asked "Sounds like someone wants an LEO force to counter a Police Force that is honest, if you ask me."

"And Sheriff Griswold did ask." Cindy said, earning a withering look from me and chuckles from everyone else. "But I agree... I got the vibe that Lt. Griffith at Police HQ is a decent man, but he's under pressure about something."

"And that girl at City Hall?" Teresa said. "Fake as a three dollar bill. The girl in my Senior Class that was Homecoming Queen was named 'Gina', not Janet. And I wasn't here my Senior year. I took classes by correspondence, graduated in December, and began college that Spring."

"She also called me 'Teresa Croyle'," continued Teresa Croyle, "and I was never called that name while I was here. So she knew my current name."

I said "I am sure that she was racing for the phone just as soon as we left. They've been waiting for us, and are keeping tabs on us now. And it's serious, people. Mildred's death, for example. Her death certificate said she died of pneumonia, and that's it. Her body was claimed by one of the Town Council persons, and they gave her a nice, well-attended funeral and burial."

I continued: "But when the librarian told me what Mildred's symptoms were, I immediately thought of ricin poisoning. I looked up the autopsy... and there was none. Unusual, considering how fast Mildred went from being fine to dying."

"Why kill her?" asked Tim Jenkins.

"They were expecting our arrival, or at least Teresa's arrival." I said. "They may have known we'd talked to Mildred in the past, and might well talk to her again. And they may have known that she had information they don't want us to find."

"My mother's maiden name." said Teresa.

"That's Iron Crowbar thinking, there." I said.

"But we found that easily enough." Teresa said. "It was on my parents's marriage certificate."

"But we were unable to confirm it with a birth certificate." I said. "And 'Lenora' sounds like a first or middle name. She may have used it on her marriage certificate instead of her real surname, again for reasons currently unknown. So Sheriff, did you find anything at the newspaper office?"

"No records of the marriage." said Griswold. "No records of Alexis's car crash, as you know. They burned up in that fire they had. And no wedding photos nor photos of the car crash, though the photo archives still exist intact."

"Okay, Don," said Jack Muscone, "you've got some idea in that red head of yours. What is it?"

"Just theories without data, for now." I said. "And you know I hate to theorize without data---"

It had suddenly gotten quiet. The music in the bar area had been shut off. I heard a lot of scraping of chairs and tables, and people getting up and getting out.

The door to the back room darkened, and the two Deputies that had been with Kenny Belton at the cemetery came through it, armed with shotguns. We all put our hands over our firearms. Cindy, Teresa, Sheriff Griswold and myself had Federal Firearms Permits, and the Federal Agents had Federal Agent badges, of course.

Following the Deputies in was an older man. He looked just like Kenny, who was behind him, but his hair was gray, and he had a big gray mustache as well as a heavier beard. He also looked like he was chronically, perpetually drunk, and his eyes seemed to be almost bulging at times.

Behind Kenny were two more men, dressed in Country & Western garb, but carrying most very modern firearms. They looked oddly and vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn't place them in my mind at the moment. And I had other, more pressing things to think about at the moment.

The Federal Agents had risen to their feet, handguns drawn and ready. No one moved quickly as the Deputies moved to each side, and the older man came forward.

"Which one of you... is the Iron Crowbar?" he asked.

To be continued.