1
It was late October and Indian Summer was replaced by the cold, strong winds out of the North with a chilling mist that sent shivers up and down your spine. Jacob Fletcher tossed another log on the fire and sparks flew up the chimney as he jabbed the ashes with the poker. The cost of propane had gone up and he decided to hold off using the furnace until it was necessary. Eunice usually cooked in the kitchen most mornings, taking the chill out of the air while they were eating. He opened the bedroom door to allow it to warm. The house was small but it fit their needs. They'd raised three children in this house, and it would be home until they died. Jacob didn't farm anymore, but they raised a big garden and sold what they couldn't eat or canned. The house was situated next to the Heaven's Gate graveyard and although not used anymore, the county paid him to cut the grass and trim.
“You coming to bed, Jacob?”
His wife of forty-five years stood in the bedroom doorway and performed the same ritual every night since they were married. She knew he would stay up a little longer to feed the dog and let him out one last time before he came into bed.
“In a minute,” he said, closing the wire curtain on the fireplace that kept sparks from flying onto the floor. “Dog needs to go out.”
Dog was a Springer Spaniel he’d found eight years ago wandering in the graveyard. He called him Dog because he didn’t want to become attached to someone else's pet. The dog stayed and so did the name.
“Come on, Dog, one last trot outside and then to bed.”
Jacob put on his coat and hat, his hand on the doorknob when he heard the car drive by on the main road and turn into the graveyard. Dog wagged his tail and whined like a bundle of nerves and shot out the door when Jacob opened it. Jacob held back, went to his gun cabinet, and pulled out his sixteen-gauge shotgun as a precaution. You never knew who you would meet when you went outside and the graveyard was involved.
The graveyard took up about a half-acre and legend said Preacher Trimble built the Heaven’s Gate church that once stood close to Jacob’s house and the cemetery. The church was long gone and the only notable grave was the crumbling mausoleum for Preacher Trimble. Approximately twenty other graves were scattered throughout the graveyard but there hasn’t been a burial in the as long as Jacob has lived in his house.
There are no roads in the graveyard so the car drove across the grass, the headlight beams bouncing until it reached the mausoleum. Two men jumped out of the car, took a large object out of the trunk, and since the mausoleum door had long been broken, they carried the object inside.
Dog had finished his business, noticed the intruders, and began to bark. Jacob held his hand out to quiet Dog and whispered.
“Easy, Dog.”
The two men hopped back into the car, turned around, and the engine roared as they barreled back down toward the road. Jacob clutched his shotgun and slid partially behind a large oak tree in his front yard. The car came to a screeching stop in front of his house and a young man jumped out, pointed an automatic pistol at Jacob, and began firing. Jacob heard the thud of bullets striking the tree until the magazine was emptied. Jacob had ducked down knowing he had to do something or he was dead. Dog barked at the stranger.
“Damn, dog,” the man said, as he jammed another magazine in the gun.
“Come on, Bailey. Forget it. Let’s get out of here,” his partner screamed.
Jacob swung low to the other side of the tree, popped up with the shotgun resting on his hip, and fired, pumped hard, fired, pumped, and fired again.
The blast from Jacob's shotgun knocked Bailey against the car with a loud thud.
“Dammit, Bailey,” the other man screamed.
“Henry, You gotta help me,” cried Bailey, clutching his stomach smeared in blood.
Dog continued to bark as Bailey slid down the side of the car. Jacob had two shells left as he stepped forward, the shotgun aimed at the car but he didn’t fire. The second man reached across, slammed the door, and took off throwing his partner on the ground. Jacob pushed Dog aside and felt the man's neck to see if there was a pulse. The man was just a kid no more than eighteen or nineteen. What a waste, he thought.
“Jacob! What’s going on? I heard gunshots.”
Eunice stood in the doorway with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
“Call the police, Eunice. I just killed a boy.”
“Jacob, are you alright?”
“I’m okay. Go on and call the sheriff. I need to check something out before he gets here.”
Jacob held the shotgun in one hand and started for the mausoleum while Dog stood over the dead man as if to make sure he was dead.
“Come on, Dog,” shouted Jacob.
The ground was moist under his boots from underground springs as he walked across the graveyard with Dog at his side. Jacob surmised that had doomed the graveyard from the beginning. The mausoleum loomed ahead and Jacob pulled out the small flashlight he always carried in his coat pocket. Jacob didn’t realize it, but sweat was pouring down his forehead and his body had begun to tremble–just like in the war. This wasn’t the first man that Jacob had killed, he was a sniper in Vietnam, and he hoped this was his last. Dog ran ahead as if he knew exactly where they were headed, disappeared through the darkened door, and commenced barking. Jacob knew what he would find. His flashlight beam fell on Dog standing over the dead body of a man, his face had been beaten where it was almost unrecognizable, and there was a bullet hole in his forehead.
“Jacob! The sheriff is on his way,” shouted Eunice with a quiver in her voice.
“Coming, Eunice,” he yelled. “Come on, Dog. Let’s go home.
2
Kelly made coffee while Lampson finished his shower and dressed when Josh Blake knocked on the front door. Lampson’s old partner in Homicide was now assigned to special projects. Younger than Lampson by fifteen years, he was married with three boys. Kelly always thought he was a giant when she was younger because he stood at six-foot-three.
Josh followed her into the kitchen. He could have telephoned, or they could have met in his office, but there was a coziness about the Lampson home. It felt lived in instead of a showplace. If he had to sum up his feelings with one word it would be ‘comfortable’.
“Coffee?”
“Sure. Where’s the old man?” he asked.
“I heard that!” shouted Lampson.
“He just got out of the shower and is getting dressed,” answered Kelly.
She grabbed a cup from the cabinet and plopped it on the counter.
“Pour your own. I have to turn the eggs.”
Josh drew his head back.
“Lousy service.”.
Kelly flipped the eggs on two plates with two pieces of bacon.
“How's the new job? “ he asked.
Kelly frowned.
“New job?”
“Lampson told me you quit your newspaper job.”
“Well, I still will provide articles for them, but I'm freelance now. I sold that last case of Dad’s for a tidy sum and maybe a book deal.”
“A book deal?”
“Maybe.”
“Good for you.”
“What brings you out so early?” she asked, sliding pieces of bread into the toaster.
“Your dad has a new assignment.”
“Oh, who’s missing?”
“A young woman’s been missing for two years, and we need to find her.”
“Who’s missing?” asked Lampson, walking into the kitchen with his hair still wet and the overwhelming smell of Old Spice aftershave.
Lampson had retired from the police department four years earlier to take care of his sick wife, Caitlin. Retirement wasn’t what he thought it was cracked up to be so he contacted his old boss with a proposition: he’d work one cold case at a time for minimum wage. He had been successful in solving a two-year-old missing person case with the help of Kelly.
“Are you ready to get back to work? It’s been two weeks, so you must be rested.”
Lampson slid into his place at the table, and Kelly sat his breakfast down. He picked up a piece of bacon, and it crunched when he bit into it.
“So, what have you got for me?”
Kelly brought two cups of coffee over and sat down opposite Josh.
“Let’s go back two years. Four kids, Debbie Kraski, Willie Gilbert, Larry Simone, and Donny Brown were drinking on the Country Club Plaza celebrating Donny’s job promotion.”
“Is this about the jewelry heist gone bad?” asked Lampson.
“The same,” replied Josh. “They are walking back to their car and about to pass in front of Harold’s Exclusive Diamonds when two men run out of the shop to a waiting car. The jeweler, whose name I forget, follows and shoots one of the robbers holding the jewels. The other gets in the car, and as they drive off, he shoots the jeweler.”
“Did he die?” asked Lampson.
“No, but he was in critical condition for a while. The robber who was killed, Frankie Lyle, dropped the bag of jewels on the sidewalk. As all this happens, the kids are petrified, except Debbie Kraski. She runs, scoops up the bag, and hightails it out of there and hasn’t been seen since.”
“What happened to the other kids?” asked Kelly.
“Their statements were taken, and they were released to go home.”
“I’m confused. Is Debbie Kraski the person you want me to find?”
Josh cupped his hands around his cup.
“Let me continue. The three men in the robbery were: Frankie Lyle, Chuck Reynolds, and Kenny Neptune. Frankie Lyle was killed that night. The three ran around together, and up to the time of this jewel heist, they were petty thieves. Reynolds and Neptune got out of town and split up. Reynolds was involved in a bank robbery in Clinton and during a chase by the highway patrol, he lost control of his car, crashed into a telephone pole, and died instantly.
“What happened to Neptune?” asked Bob.
“He got sent to Jeff City for twenty years for raping a minor.”
Kelly got up and poured everyone another cup of coffee.
“Eat, Dad,” she said, pointing at his plate. “Neptune didn't go to trial for the jewelry heist?”
“No proof. Neptune drove a stolen car and wore gloves. No one saw him because he was driving. All the people involved in the robbery are either dead or in jail.”
“Did I miss something here?” asked Kelly. “Why did Debbie Kraski pick up the bag and run? Does she have a police record?”
“Debbie didn’t have a record, but it was learned later she was a crackhead and was always looking for ways to pay for her habit. I'm assuming seeing that bag of jewels she thought was manna from heaven."
“So what happened?” asked Bob, finally taking a bite of toast.
“We know that Debbie couldn’t fence the diamonds. They were too hot. Word on the street was that certain people were looking for Debbie and the jewels. So, she went into hiding.”
“With someone’s help?” asked Lampson
“Right, which brings us up to last night. Donny Brown, the kid celebrating his job promotion two years ago, was killed last night. His body was dumped in a mausoleum at Heaven’s Gate Cemetery.”
“Who do you think did it?” asked Lampson.
“One was Scott Bailey, a young punk with a long juvenile record. He was shot by the caretaker of the cemetery, Jacob Fletcher. ”
Lampson pushed his plate of half-eaten eggs to one side and grabbed his coffee.
“So, what is the connection?”
“We don’t know. Bailey ran around with a guy a couple of years older named Henry Hanks. He considers himself a killer for hire but so far has had little takers. Fletcher said Scott Bailey said the name Henry before he died.”
“Looks like they had their first job last night,” said Lampson. “What is your take on this whole thing?”
“We think Debbie is still in hiding. We need to find her with your help because we believe that the other two individuals who witnessed the crime two years ago are in danger.”
“Someone thinks the guys with her that night know where Debbie is hiding?”
“That’s right.”
Lampson scratched his head and glanced at Kelly who shrugged her shoulders. Lampson lifted his arms, palms up, and shrugged.
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“I have the name of a good friend of hers,” replied Josh.
3
It was a gloomy morning with a fog blanketing the ground and a light mist made it feel colder. Lampson stood in the mausoleum where Donny Brown’s body was found. The yellow police tape fluttered in the wind as he inspected the small eight-by-eight structure.
“Kids come here sometimes to drink beer and smoke dope,” said Jacob Fletcher, pointing to the paper cups, beer cans and cigarette butts scattered on the floor.
“I didn't know anyone still smoked unfiltered cigarettes,” said Lampson, putting the cigarette butt in a baggie. “The beer can looks like it has been here forever. The butt looks fresh and it might tell us something. My dad used to smoke Lucky Strike cigarettes.”
Jacob inspected the door hanging by one hinge.
“I'm going to fix the door on this place.”
“I've seen all I need to see,” said Lampson.
Lampson felt like he was in the middle of nowhere.
“Did you say we are in the city limits of Kansas City?” asked Kelly.
“Yep. I know it seems odd. Kansas City wraps around Grandview to the north and Cass County to the south. That allowed this area to remain farmland. New housing is starting to crowd us from the east and soon all of this will be gone.”
Lampson zipped his coat up covering his neck from the cold.
“Do you get much traffic on this road in front of your house?”
“Oh, it varies.”
They walked back to the house and Lampson stood on the edge of the porch and focused on the old mausoleum with the broken down door and the yellow tape warning people to stay out.
“Why would they pick this place I wonder?”
“I can’t figure that out. We have people once in a great while, but nothing like what happened last night.”
“Why do you think Scott Bailey stopped and tried to kill you?”
“Stupid, I guess. Too many Clint Eastwood movies.”
Kelly knelt and scratched Dog’s ears.
“I guess I’m amazed at how stupid they were by announcing what they were doing. You’d think they would have tried to be quieter since the house is so close.”
“Mr. Lampson, you are asking me questions I can’t answer.”
“How much land do you have here?” asked Kelly.
“About ten acres, not including the house. The house takes up another half-acre.”
“Well, I guess we’ll be heading back. You have my card, so if you remember anything or see anything out of the ordinary, call me.”
“Sure thing. I don’t know if I helped any.”
“I’m glad I came out. After seeing the cemetery and your place, I still can’t understand why they dumped the body here.”
###
“What do you think?” asked Kelly.
Lampson and Kelly were driving back on Interstate forty-nine into the city. Lampson was unusually quiet.
“What?” he asked.
“What do you think?”
Lampson mulled over the question for a minute before he answered.
“I’m puzzled why the cemetery was picked and why they stopped to shoot at Jacob. It doesn’t make sense. The car was stolen and I’m sure they’ll find no fingerprints so why draw attention to yourself?”
“Young and stupid?”
Lampson shook his head.
“It was meant to send a message but what and to whom?”
“The two other men who witnessed the robbery that night?”
“You'd assume that. The location seems wrong. These two men live in the city and not near Heaven's Gate Cemetery. Shooting at Jacob makes no sense at all.”
“Maybe that was a message, too,” said Kelly. “Where do we go from here?”
Lampson thought for a second.
“I'm going to visit Natalie Montgomery. I'll drop you off at home to find out as much as you can about the four who witnessed the robbery. Their families, siblings, jobs, the works.”
“Won’t Josh provide that?”
Lampson smiled.
”You have your unofficial sources who don’t always print everything.”
###
The address was for a small boutique on Westport Road in midtown. Lampson pulled into the parking lot on the side of the red brick building with a faded sign for Buster Brown's shoes. A bell rang when he entered and a voice shouted from the back of the store.
“Be out in a second.”
The store had racks of mostly women’s consignment clothes and accessories and one small section with a limited selection had been reserved for men. The store was so small it would take a lot of walk-in customers to make a decent living. No matter the size, the place had the stale smell of mingling body odor that permeated all second-hand clothing stores.
Lampson heard a noise behind him and a striking black woman in her early thirties parted the curtain separating the front of the store from the back. Her silver buzzcut accentuated her dark skin and her piercing eyes. Her clothes were certainly not off the rack at Natalie's Boutique nor were the large gold hoops that she wore. She stopped with her hands on her hips in an aggressive pose and stared at Lampson.
“Are you Natalie?” he asked.
“You a cop?” she shot back.
Lampson spread his arms wide.
“It's that obvious?” asked Lampson.
“Is their pigeon shit on the sidewalk?”
Lampson ignored the last remark but stepped forward and handed her his card. She glanced at it and handed it back to him.
“Play cop. How cute.”
Lampson held up his palm.
“Keep the card. I'm here about Debbie Kraski.”
Natalie pocketed the card, folded her arms, and leaned on the counter behind her.
“What about Debbie?”
Her posture told him that getting information from Natalie would be tough.
“I'm trying to find her. We think she still might be in danger.”
Natalie tilted her head to one side and her expression was one of disbelief.
“You're kidding, right?”
Natalie's imposing personality would make it harder for Lampson to get any information out of her.
“Your take on Debbie?”
Natalie stood tall and Lampson estimated she was taller than Kelly who was six feet tall.
“She's dead. Can't be any other way!”
Lampson picked up a pair of men's gloves on the table beside him, turned them over in his hands, and then looked back at Natalie.
“You sure about that?” he asked, tossing the gloves back on the table.
“I used to see Debbie often but she hasn't been around forever.”
Natalie's eye contact told him she wanted to end the conversation.
“How close were you and Natalie!”
“You've been talking to Josh Blake. He thinks he knows but he doesn't. Debbie was a customer who needed an ear from time to time. That's all.”
“Why do you think she's dead?” asked Lampson.
The bell on the door rang and Natalie waved at the customer.
“Because I ain't seen her. Don't see a crackhead, she's dead. Excuse me.”
Natalie brushed by Lampson’s shoulder to attend to her customer.
The customer eyed Lampson cautiously and told Natalie he needed clothes. Lampson wondered if it was clothes he was after. His face was drawn as if he'd just awakened. Natalie blocked Lampson's view as she led the man by the arm to the men's section, but she couldn't hide that the man was shaking all over: he needed a fix.
4
Willie Gilbert paced the floor, his cell phone clutched in one hand, and a half-empty pint bottle of vodka in the other. The television was blaring a rerun of a game show. Willie was short, stocky, and had beady eyes surrounded by a fleshy freckled face. Donny sent him a text yesterday saying he felt that someone had followed him the past week.
“We need to meet, bro.”
“Tomorrow night,” Willie wrote back.
Willie turned on the news to listen to the weather before work and that is when he heard Donny's name. He immediately attempted to call Larry Simone but got the message 'The number you are calling is not available.’
The phone rang.
“Larry?”
“Willie? It's your mother.”
Willie couldn't hide his frustration.
“Mom, I'm trying to get Larry. Can I call you back?”
“Willie! Did you hear about Donny?”
“I know, Mom. I need to get off. I need to talk to Larry.”
“Willie! They found Donny's body in Heaven's Gate Cemetery in the old mausoleum.”
Willie couldn't respond. The graveyard was a quarter mile from Willie’s parent’s house. They’d bought the house three years ago after his father retired.
“Willie, did you hear me?”
“Yeah, Mom. Sorry about that. I heard about Donny, but I didn't realize they found him in Heaven’s Gate.”
“That nice Mr. Fletcher, who lives next to the cemetery, shot one of the killers, but poor Donny was a mess. He was beaten and then shot.”
Willie started to shake. What was going on? Why would someone want to kill Donny? Donny was a driver for UPS and recently had met a girl he was serious about and even talked of marriage.
“Willie? Why would someone murder Donny?”
Willie lifted the bottle to his mouth and took a long swig before answering.
“I don't know, Mom.”
###
Kelly found a table in the corner of the crowded Chick-fil-A and watched the door for her contact. The waitress brought her meal and she’d almost finished when she saw Patrick’s tall frame with the combed back dark hair enter the front door. He waved and pointed toward the line to order before joining her. He was a crime reporter for the Kansas City Star. Kelly liked Patrick’s low keyed personality and humor. He was fun to be around.
“Sorry, I'm so late. I had an interview and I had a talker,” he said as he sat down.
“No problem. I just want to thank you for talking to me.”
The waitress brought his order and when she left he asked, “What's up?”
“You covered the Plaza jewelry robber a couple of years ago.”
Patrick looked puzzled
“What about it?”
“Debbie Kraski. What can you tell me about her?”
Patrick laid his sandwich down, folded his hands, and gave her a warm smile.
“How much time do you have?”
“As long as you have time.”
Patrick took a bite out of his sandwich.
“Debbie Kraski comes from a very dysfunctional family.
Father was an alcoholic, mother a druggie, and the mother turned to prostitution to buy her drugs.”
“Where was Debbie in all of this?” asked Kelly.
“Foster homes. Juvenile detention. She ran away from the foster homes several times. Finally, everyone gave up on Debbie because she became a crackhead.”
“What was her relationship with Donny Brown?”
Patrick took another bite of his sandwich.
“Donny was a neighbor and an old boyfriend when she wasn't a crackhead. I don't know how that relationship lasted so long, but I guess Donny kept hoping.”
“Do you think he was in love with her?”
“Only as a friend by the time of the heist. I heard from Larry Simone that Donny had a girlfriend he was serious about.”
“Why do you think he was murdered?”
“I don't know.”
Kelly thought for a second.
“Where do you think Debbie has been the last two years?”
Patrick paused, collecting his thoughts.
“A lot of people have speculated about that. After all, she has a bag of jewels that interests a lot of people.”
“What do you think?”
“I have no proof, but this is what I think happened after she took the bag and ran. First, I think she ran somewhere she thought she was safe.”
“And where would that be?”
Patrick shrugged.
“My best guess is she hid the jewels and then went to Natalie Montgomery for advice “
“Natalie was her best friend, right?”
“I don't think I'd call Natalie her best friend. Natalie was her supplier.”
“Do you think she stayed there?”
“I don't think so. Just because Natalie is her dealer doesn't mean she stayed with her. But, I don't think Debbie could get that far away from her.”
“So, do you think she’d stay with one of her friends from that night?”
“Maybe Donny Brown.”
“And he's dead.”
“And that tells me that Debbie is probably dead,” said Patrick
“Why?” asked Kelly.
“Debbie is dead because no one has seen her for two years. I think people are still looking for the jewels”
“Who would that be?” asked Kelly.
“Probably Natalie.”
“Do you think Donny told them?”
“Nope. I don't think he knew where the jewels were. I think they took Donny’s body to that graveyard because Willie Gilbert’s folks moved near there three years ago. ”
“Do you think they’ll go after him next?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Where do you think she hid the jewels?”
Patrick laughed.
“If I knew that, I’d have a scoop on my hands or a beautiful home in the Bahamas.”
5
Lampson closed the car door and snapped his seat belt.
“Thanks for letting me tag along on this interview with Donny Brown's mother.”
“She’s already been interviewed by homicide. I'll give you a copy of that interview. I thought we could interview her about his relationship with Debbie Kraski,” said Josh.
“Sounds good. So what do you have on Natalie Montgomery?” asked Lampson.
“Not much. She’s a pretty smart cookie. She was on our radar but we can’t come up with anything. We thought Natalie might have had Debbie killed for the jewels but no evidence.”
“Is she a drug dealer?” asked Lampson.
“She's on our watch list. We think so but she's not your typical dealer.”
“I have this feeling she's involved with Debbie, but I can't put my finger on how she's involved,” said Lampson.
They pulled up in front of a typical midwestern airplane bungalow on the west side with two bedrooms downstairs and a smaller room upstairs. Before the days of airconditioning families would have a window fan downstairs pulling air through the open windows upstairs where the family slept to beat the heat. Lampson liked this style of house because it was practical.
Mrs. Brown was a small woman in her late fifties. Her short hair was combed back with streaks of gray intertwined with brown. The eyes were listless and the cheeks were stained from crying. The musty-smelling living room was sparsely furnished and a worn blanket covered the sofa. She sat down on the edge of a cheap vinyl recliner and her eyes moved from Josh to Lampson.
“I’ve already talked to the police. I don’t know what else to tell you unless you’ve found out who killed my Donny.”
Josh leaned forward, his hands clasped, and in a soft and reassuring voice he asked, “We are doing everything we can to find who murdered your son. We are looking to see if Donny's murder could be connected to the disappearance of Debbie Kraski.”
Mrs. Brown rose and stared with disbelief at Josh.
“Debbie Kraski! He hasn’t seen her since that night two years ago when she stole the jewels.”
“Did he ever talk about Debbie?”
Mrs. Brown thought for a second.
“No, not that I can remember. They were sweethearts once and always good friends, but she fell into drugs and stole those jewels, and Donny didn’t want anything to do with her.”
Lampson broke in.
“Did any of his friends talk about Debbie like Larry Simone or Willie Gilbert?”
Mrs. Brown put her finger to her lips and thought for a second.
“Now that you mention it, he said Willie Gilbert had seen her.”
“When was that?” asked Josh.
“Oh, a few months ago, I think.”
Lampson sat forward on the sofa.
“This could be very important in solving Donny’s murder. Can you be more specific?”
Mrs. Brown shook her head.
“This is so hard. My head is swirling and I can’t think.”
“Take your time,” he said.
Her hand went to her forehead, her eyes closed, and her lips moved.
“I think it was about two months ago. He told Donny that he gave Debbie a place to stay for a couple of days, but I don’t know anything else. All I know is that Donny didn’t want to know anything about it.”
Lampson reached out, patted her hand, and handed her his card.
“That’s good. If you think of anything else, give me a call.”
They got up to leave when Mrs. Brown stopped them.
“Wait! Donny did say something strange to me about three days ago.”
Lampson half turned around.
“Oh?”
“He said he felt like someone was following him.”
###
Willie Gilbert opened the door, grabbed Larry Simone by the shirt, pulled him into the apartment, and slammed the door.
“Did anyone follow you?”
“I don’t think so, but how in the hell would I know?”
Larry pulled away from Wille and headed for the kitchen. Larry was tall and skinny, curly black hair, and a light tan complexion.
“Why ain’t you working?”
“I called in to say I'd be late.”
“You got a cola?” asked Larry, rummaging through the refrigerator. He pulled out a can, popped the top, and took a long hard swig.
“This is serious,” said Willie, hitting Larry on the shoulder. “Donny’s gone and we might be next.”
“Why? What do you think this is all about?”
“Debbie.”
Larry’s eyes widened.
“Debbie? What in the hell does Debbie have to do with Donny? He told me three weeks ago that he hasn’t seen her since that night on the Plaza and he doesn’t want to see her.”
Willie beat his chest with both fists.
“But I saw her!”
“What? Are you stupid or something? I heard from my cousin Louie that Natalie was looking for her.”
“Natalie? Who’s that?”
“Willie, you stupid shit. I’m getting out of here. You don’t know what you're doing and who you are fooling with, man.”
Willie was short, but muscular and grabbed Larry by the shirt until he looked straight into Larry’s eyes.
“Who’s Natalie?”
“She owns a shop on Westport Road, Natalie’s Boutique, a front for more than clothes. Louie said she wants those jewels.”
Willie pushed Larry away and put his hands to his face.
“I’m next,” he said with a moan.
“Willie, you gotta tell me what’s going on.”
Willie whipped around and shouted: “Debbie needed a place to crash. My folks have a place on the south side of the city that is secluded. She needed a place where she could think.”
“Did she have the jewels?” asked Larry.
“I don’t know! She stayed with my folks and then she was gone.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“No. I work, okay? My mom and dad felt sorry for her and that’s all I know. They woke up one day and she was gone.”
Larry could tell he was lying.
“Dude, you’re fucked.”
“Don’t say that!” screamed Willie, slamming his fist and busting through the sheetrock wall of the apartment.
“You need to get out of here for a while and let things cool down,” said Larry, moving toward the door. “I'm going to be late for work. Don’t call me, dude.”
6
“I didn’t ask for Donny to be murdered or for Scott to shoot at some retired farmer. You were to follow him to see if he led you to Debbie. If not, scare him.”
Natalie stood behind her desk and her icy stare told Henry he was in trouble. Henry had dreaded this meeting with Natalie. He felt beads of sweat on his forehead and he couldn't stop his body from trembling. This was his first big job and it had gone off the rails by taking along Scott Bailey. Scott got excited and beat Donny Brown to death and shot him to leave his signature. Henry attempted to explain the situation to Natalie but she wasn't having it. She was right. The job was to scare the shit out of Donny Brown and let him go.
“I tried to control Scott, but he just went crazy on me.”
“If that was the case, Henry, why did you stop the car to shoot at the farmer or whatever he is? That doesn’t make sense, especially when Scott got himself killed in the process.”
Henry couldn’t look Natalie in the eye. He felt like a school kid being disciplined by his teacher.
“I can’t explain it. Scott yelled for me to stop and I did. I didn’t see the farmer guy and when Scott started firing, I yelled for him to get back in the car.”
“Did you get rid of the car?”
“Yes. I did exactly as you said. I took it to the garage on Wornall and they started work on it immediately.”
Natalie sat at her desk, opened the drawer, and pulled out a key.
“Did I ask you to bring Scott in on the deal?” Henry averted his eyes. “Look at me! Did I ask you to bring Scott in on the deal?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You’ve been begging me for a job and I finally gave you one and you blew it.”
Henry stepped toward the desk.
“Give me another chance, Natalie…”
Natalie held her hand up to silence him.
“I need time, Henry. Here's the key to the box at UPS. You'll find your money in an envelope. She handed the key to Henry. “Now get out!”
“Give me one more chance, Natalie. I won't fail you.”
Natalie stood up and pointed toward the door.
“Out!”
Henry grasped the key in his hand and left the office. It was early so the lights were out and no customers. He zigzagged through the tables filled with clothes and almost knocked over a rack of shoes.
There was a sense of relief when Henry made it to his apartment off Forty-third Street and parked. He sighed, relieved that his meeting with Natalie was over. He had delayed going in for a day in hopes that Natalie would calm down. Henry closed his car door and the roar of a motorcycle drew his attention. He turned around when the bike stopped and there was a pop. Henry fell to the ground and the key that didn't unlock anything was still firmly clutched in his hand.
###
Lampson caught Larry Simone as he arrived for his eight o’clock shift. Simone was the skinny cashier you got at the grocery checkout with the wrinkled white shirt, a stained tie, and glanced at his watch every few minutes to see if it was time to go on his break. His hair looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. It wasn't hard for Lampson to predict Simone's future.
He frowned and shied away when Lampson approached him.
“I gotta be on my register in five minutes. “
“Then we better start now. Do you have a break room?”
It was a typical break room with various machines dispensing drinks and candy. They sat down at the vinyl-topped table that had seen its best days.
“What is this about?” asked Larry.
“I want to ask you about Donny Brown.”
Bob could tell that Larry was shaken as he took his hands off the table and placed them in his lap.
“What about Donny?”
Bob took out his notebook.
“Why do you think he was killed?”
Larry bit at his lip.
“Why are you asking me that? How should I know? Do you think I had something to do with it?”
Bob stared at him for a second. He could tell that he'd caught Larry off guard. He knows something.
“Did you?”
Larry glanced at his watch and there was a look of pure terror on his face.
“No!”
A woman stood at the break room door, hands on her, and that authoritative look of a manager.
“Larry, you need to get on your register.”
Larry stood up with a silly smile on his face.
“I have to go, mister, he said, walking to the door.
“I'll be back,” said Lampson.
###
“Josh, I just left Larry Simone and I think he's hiding something. Did homicide talk to him?”
“I'll check. Did he say anything?”
“It was more how he reacted to my asking about Donny Brown. He was a nervous wreck.”
“Well, I have some bad news. Henry Hanks was murdered in front of his apartment this morning.”
Lampson was silent for a second.
“That's going to eliminate Natalie Montgomery for ordering Donny Brown's murder, and we don't have anything to connect her with Debbie Kraski's disappearance.”
Josh sighed.
“Sounds like we're starting all over.”
“I think we can put some pressure on Larry Simone.”
“Where are you going now?” asked Josh.
“I'm going to see if I can catch Willie Gilbert and see what he knows.”
“Good luck.”
###
Shultz Brothers Lumber dealt in specialty lumber, steel framing, and other specialty items for contractors. Lampson arrived around ten o'clock and the manager, a stout man in a white shirt and a pencil behind his ear, called Willie in from the lot to the lunch room.
“He'll be in shortly. He was in the middle of moving some lumber off a truck that just drove in.”
“This won't take long. A friend of his was murdered a couple of nights ago and I need to ask some routine questions. He was not involved “
The manager sighed.
“Good. He's an excellent worker.”
Willie entered the lunch room and Lampson motioned for him to sit down at the table. He pulled off his cap revealing a shock of oily red hair. Thick, strong hands clutched and twisted his cap.
“You wanted to see me?”
Lampson handed him his card and Willie read it and fixed his eyes on him.
“What can I do for you?”
Lampson took out his notebook and laid it on the table.
“I wanted to ask you about Donny Brown.”
Willie held his hands up and shook his head.
“I know nothing about it.”
“I just wanted to know if you saw him lately “
“We don't pal around anymore. I'd see him once in a while and we might drink a beer.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
Willie frowned and cast his eyes on the ceiling. Finally, he turned back to Lampson.
“About two months.”
Willie started tapping his thick fingers on the table and fidgeting in his chair.
“What about Debbie Kraski? When was the last time you saw her?”
Willie became agitated and pushed his chair back as if he was getting ready to leave.
“Why are you asking about Debbie? I haven't seen her forever. I didn't have anything to do with her disappearance.”
“I didn't say you did,” said Lampson. “Why are you getting so upset?”
“I'm not upset but I've lost two friends in the past two years.”
“I didn't think you were good friends with Debbie. When you made the statement two years ago you stated that she was just an acquaintance you saw now and then with Donny.”
“Look, I don't know nothing about Donny's murder, and I know nothing about Debbie's disappearance.”
“Okay.”
Willie stood up, crammed his cap over his oily hair, and started walking towards the door.
“I got to get back to work.”
Willie slammed the door as he left the lunch room.
Lampson scribbled some notes in his notebook and as he stood up to leave he thought to himself, ‘You're hiding something, too, Willie Gilbert’.
7
As they approached the Gilbert home, Lampson could see a faded for sale sign for ten acres with the telephone number obscured by overgrown brush. He pulled into the driveway behind a fairly new Ford F150. The small bungalow looked in good shape, recently painted white, and a vegetab;e garden beside the house. Directly behind the house, there appeared to be a small rose garden.
“Looks good to me,” said Lampson.
He saw the front door open and a small woman stepped out followed by a giant of a man who towered over his wife. Lampson and Kelly approached the porch, and the woman smiled and wiped her nervous hands on her apron.
“You the police?” she inquired with a tremor in her voice.
“Yes ma'am,” answered Lampson.
Lampson reached into his pocket and handed her his card.The husband took the card out of his wife's hand and looked from the card to Lampson.
“Who's she?” Harris asked.
Lampson hesitated.
“My assistant. She’ll take notes.”
Harris nodded.
“This is my husband, Harris and I'm Lucy. Let's go inside.”
The decor looked like it came out of the sixties and there was even a large picture of the Woodstock festival in the living room. The acrid smell of tobacco and marijuana permeated the house. Lampson glanced at the buffet in the dining room and there was a family picture with Willie and his parents and standing in front of Willie stood Debbie Kraski. Lampson stopped to look at the pictures and there was another picture of Debbie with Lucy.
“Let's talk in the kitchen, Mr. Lampson,” said Lucy.
He detected a quiver in her voice.
They sat down around the kitchen table and Kelly took out a notepad to fulfill her role as notetaker. Harris reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a package of Lucky Strike., took one out, and lit it.
“First, I'm Bob Lampson and this is my assistant Kelly.”
Harris shifted in his chair and it squeaked under his weight.
“What do you want?”
Lampson folded his hands on the table.
“I work on cold cases for the police department and I'm searching for Debbie Kraski.”
Lucy and Harris exchanged glances and Harris nodded.
“What has she done?”
Lampson smiled and his eyes darted from Lucy to Harris and back to Lucy.
“I think you know what Debbie did as did Willie. So, let's put our cards on the table. “
Lucy cleared her throat and began:
“Willie was just an acquaintance of Debbie’s. Donny was an old boyfriend and invited Debbie the night of the jewel robbery.”
“I saw her picture on the buffet so I know she stayed here. Did she come here that night?” asked Lampson.
“Oh, no. I didn't know where she lived until two months after the robbery. Willie volunteers with a group that takes sandwiches to the homeless. I don't know where he found her but he brought her here.”
Lampson was silent for a minute taking in her last statement.
“You are telling me that Debbie Kraski lived here for almost two years while the police were looking for her?”
Lucy’s expression was like a child who got caught taking a cookie out of the cookie jar. Wringing her hands and avoiding eye contact she said, ”Yes.”
“Did she bring the jewels with her?”
Harris spoke up.
“She didn't have the jewels. I asked her about them and she said they were in a safe place.”
“Where is she now?”
Lucy looked up with her eyes wide open.
“Oh, she doesn't live here anymore.”
Lampson saw Kelly stop writing and the room seemed very quiet.
“Where is she?”
“Oh, Debbie doesn't live here anymore,” repeated Lucy.
Lampson sighed.
“Where is she?”
“We don't know. One day we woke up about two weeks ago and she was gone.”
8
They returned to the lumberyard to talk to Willie. He pulled out a package of Lucky Strikes cigarettes, lit it, and filled his lungs. His voice quivered as smoke slowly crept out of his mouth.
“You smoke Lucky Strike?” asked Lampson.
Willie looked at the cigarette in his hand and shrugged.
“Naw. Stole a pack from my dad as I was leaving for work. I guess you’ve been out to see my parents?”
“We know everything, Willie. Now it’s time for you to come clean.”
Willie threw his arms over his head and his voice was desperate.
“About what? What else do you need to know that my parents didn’t tell you?”
“First, did Debbie tell you she was going to leave?”
Willie took another drag off his cigarette.
“No. I woke up one morning and she was gone,” he said, failing to hide the bitterness in his voice.
“Were her clothes all gone?” asked Lampson.
Willie paused, a strange look on his face as if he’d never thought about it before.
“No. She left most of them behind. She had an emergency kit with basics like a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a change of clothes.” He frowned. “Strange, she didn’t take it.”
“She didn’t say anything to you at all?” asked Kelly.
Willie slowly shook his head.
“We sat on the swing in our rose garden and talked for a while, and she told me how much she liked me. We talked about the future. I went to bed early that night because the lumberyard had an early shipment coming the next morning. I remember my dad came out to keep her company.”
Kelly placed her hand on his shoulder.
“You felt you were like a boyfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“I bet that hurt when she was gone the next morning,” interjected Lampson.
“Yeah. I don’t think her bed had been slept in so she must have left soon after I went to bed.”
“Willie, I want you to think hard. Did she ever mention the jewels?” asked Lampson.
“Naw, she didn’t like talking about them.”
“Never said anything,” asked Kelly, with disbelief in her voice.
Willie took a drag on his cigarette and tossed it on the ground.
“The only thing she told me after she first came to live with my parents was they were in a safe place and they will rest in peace.”
“Okay. Thanks.“ Lampson stared at the cigarette butt and then at Willie.
Lampson abruptly turned and hurried back to the car with Kelly behind him.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I need to make a call to Jacob Fletcher. I think Willie is lying.”
###
“Where are we going now?” asked Kelly.
Lampson stared straight ahead as he drove.
“Back to Heaven’s Gate. Things are starting to make sense.”
“Whatever for? We were just at the Gilbert’s.”
Lampson turned off I-49 onto Highway 150 and headed east.
“I have a hunch everything has been hidden right under our noses.”
“What are you talking about?’ asked Kelly.
“You’ll see,” said Bob as he reached the gravel road that led to the graveyard.
Jacob Fletcher stood by the mausoleum as they drove up and waved with one hand and the other held a crowbar.
“What in the hell are you doing?” asked Kelly as they got out of the car.
“Did you inspect the doors to the individual crypts?” he asked Jacob Fletcher.
Jacob nodded in the affirmative.
“Just to check if I could get the doors to move. I thought I should wait until you got here.”
“Are you going to open graves?” whispered Kelly as they entered the mausoleum.
The mausoleum was small and only had room for two people. The crypts were on the left as you entered and the paint designating the inhabitants had worn off a long ago as had the handles to open the crypts.
“Sure you can open them?” asked Lampson.
Jacob inserted the crowbar and worked it along the edge of the crypt until it started to open. Jacob gave one hard tug and the door to the crypt fell open. Kelly gasped, grabbed her father's arm, and squealed.
“Oh, my God!”
Jacob turned to Lampson.
“You were right. How did you know they hid the body in the crypt?”
Lampson stared at the lifeless body of Debbie Kraski mixed with the bones of Preacher Trimble. Her body had been crammed into the small space and he could tell from the condition of the body she'd been placed recently.
Kelly screamed.
“ I can't stand l; looking at her!”
Lampson took Kelly's arm, led her outside, and wrapped his arms around her.
“I'm sorry, Kelly. I shouldn't have put you through that.”
“Her vacant eyes appeared to stare right through me.”
“I know. I guess I've become immune to dead bodies.”
Jacob stuck his head out of the mausoleum.
“You want the other drawer opened?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
Kelly broke away from Lampson’s arms.
“I'm okay. I think I'll go to the car.”
“Okay. I need to call Josh.”
Jacob came outside holding a bag.
“Is this what you were looking for?”
“Yep. I think we're close to closing this case.”
###
Lucy and Harris Gilbert sat in the interrogation room as Lampson and Josh watched.
“Camera on?” asked Lampson.
“We're ready.”
Lucy ran her trembling hands through her hair.
“Do you think they know?” she asked.
She reached across to touch his arm. Harris pulled away.
“We should have listened to Willie!”
“You didn't mean to kill her. She should've told you where the jewels were.”
“Shut up, Lucy!”
“Do you think Willie knows?” she asked, tugging at his shirt sleeve.
“No!”
“I'm worried, Harris. What will they do to us for accidentally killing her?”
Harris, his eyes ablaze, turned to his wife.
“Strangling her wasn't accidental!”
“Bingo,” whispered Josh.
###
Willie, Josh, and Lampson sat in the interrogation room next to Willie's parents.
“You hid the jewels, didn't you?” asked Lampson.
Willie nodded.
”Debbie wanted me to hide them.”
“Why didn't she return the jewels!”
Willie shrugged.
“She was afraid of going to jail.”
“How did she buy the drugs?” asked Josh.
Willie shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He felt the drab gray walls closing in on him and he wondered who was listening behind the large mirror.
“I bought her some, but she was trying to go straight.”
Lampson leaned across the table.
“When did you hide the jewels?”
“When she first came to live with us. I volunteer for a group that takes sandwiches to the homeless and I found Debbie one night. I took her home to my parents and she stayed.”
Lampson's hands lightly slapped the table.
“One big happy family, eh Willie?”
Willie’s hands fumbled with the zipper on his coat.
“I thought we were until she left suddenly.”
“Why did she leave?” Josh asked.
Tears filled Willie's eyes.
“I told you, don't know.”
Lampson turned to Josh and he nodded. Lampson laid a hand on Willie's shoulder.
“I believe it's time you learned the truth, Willie.”
9
It was early the next day and Lampson was outside Natalie's Boutique hammering on the door while Kelly waited in the car in the parking lot. Westport Road was filled with the hum of the early morning traffic, the overcast skies were gone, and the sun finally decided to show its face. Although the shop was dark, Lampson could see a light surrounding the door of Natalie's office. The door opened and Natalie's dark shadow stood in the doorway before walking toward the front door.
“The play cop is back,” she said, opening the door for him.
She led the way back to her office and pointed to the chair opposite her desk. She ignored him for a second to gloss her lips.
“May I help you?” she asked, placing the lip gloss in the middle drawer of her desk.
“I wanted to tell you I found Debbie.
Natalie tilted her head down and raised her eyebrows.
“And I want to know this because?”
“The jewels have been found and returned.”
“Thank you for the update, I'm sure. How is Debbie?”
“Debbie is dead.” Natalie showed no emotion. “So, there is no need for you to keep searching for her and the jewels.”
“I didn't know I was looking.”
Lampson stood up and walked to the door.
“Right.”
###
Lampson and Kelly sat in First Watch nursing their coffee while waiting for their order.
”How did you know you'd find Debbie in the crypt?” asked Kelly.
“I didn't. At least not until we were at the Gilbert's and I saw Harris light up a Lucky Strike.”
“Huh?”
Kelly put down her cup and got her notebook out of her purse.
“My dad smoked Lucky Strikes for years. Harris must have carried Debbie's body to the mausoleum and at some time smoked a cigarette.”
“A cigarette is getting him a murder charge?”
I picked up the cigarette butt the first time we went to the mausoleum. They’ll find that Harris's DNA will be on that butt. That and they later found his fingerprints on her body where he strangled her. I'm sure they'll find his DNA on her body.”
Kelly looked up from the notebook.
“Start from the beginning.”
“It started with Debbie's drug addiction. She was like many addicts who have an addiction but can't pay for their habit. She saw the bag of jewels from the robbery and she saw her chance to pay for her habit.”
Kelly stopped writing.
“She didn't sell anything.”
“She realized she couldn't get rid of the jewels. They were hot and she didn't know anyone who could help her but Natalie, the one who supplied Debbie's drug habit.”
“Who had the Eggs Benedict?” the waitress asked. Lampson moved his cup to one side. “And the pancakes for you,” she said, sitting a plate in front of Kelly.
Lampson unwrapped his silverware.
“Thank you “
“So what happened with Natalie?”
“Who knows,” Lampson said, taking a bite of the Eggs Benedict. “I think for some reason Debbie became fearful of Natalie, so she took off and lived on the streets until Willie found her.”
“She went to live with Willie's parents for almost two years,” Kelly added.
“Correct. Natalie probably thought Debbie would eventually contact her because Natalie had the means to sell the jewels. When that didn't happen, she started hunting for Debbie.”
Kelly pointed her pen at Lampson.
“So she picks Donny Brown.”
“Donny had been Debbie's friend. I don't think she meant to kill Donny. When Scott Bailey does the unthinkable, Natalie tells them to place the body in the mausoleum to warn Willie that he is next. Little did Natalie know that Debbie was already dead and Willie had hidden the jewels in the very place they took Donny Brown.”
“Why did Harris kill Debbie?”
Lampson took a sip of coffee, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and continued.
“Willie and Debbie had decided she was going to turn herself in and return the jewels. Debbie had learned to trust Willie and Willie believes their friendship had turned into a relationship. They discussed this one night in the backyard and the way Willie tells it, the next morning she was gone.”
“And that's when Harris steps in,” said Kelly.
“Willie left to go to bed and Debbie wanted to stay out a little longer. Harris had overheard the whole conversation, approached Debbie, and when she refused to tell him where the jewels were hidden, he tried to frighten her and ended up killing her.”
“What will happen to Willie and Lucy?” she asked.
“Yet to be determined.” Lampson stood to go. “Breakfast on your nickel?”
Kelly brushed by her father.
“Dream on.”
###
That evening, Lampson rang the doorbell with his elbow while balancing the pizza in one hand and a six-pack of KC Bier’s Dunkel in the other. He heard footsteps approaching and he felt an excitement he hadn't felt in a long time. Shelly Cochran opened the door and stepped aside.
“Do you need help?” she asked, taking the pizza.
“I hope you like Papa Murphy's thin crust,” he said.
“Thin crust is fine,” she said, leading the way into the kitchen. “The oven is set for four-twenty-five.”
They sat quietly eating with only an occasional critique of the pizza and how chilled glasses make beer taste better. Once they had finished, they shifted from the kitchen to the sunroom. Shelly had turned on the gas log earlier and the flames brought a warm glow to the room. Shelly sat across from him and Lampson watched shadows from the fire dance across her face. And he felt like a teenager on a first date.
“You finished another case?” she asked.
“Finished the paperwork today.”
They were quiet for a minute, content with the silence and being together.
“Come over here and tell me about it.”
He joined her on the sofa and felt that connection from the first time they met. She picked up his hand in hers and placed his hand on her lap.
“Okay, I'm ready.”
THE END
